Fourth Time is the Charm
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: Christmas & New Year story. Peter & Olivia
1. Chapter 1

**FRINGE**

**Fourth Time is the Charm**

Fringe doesn't belong to me. Stargate either. I'm merely borrowing the characters and I promise I will put them back in their box when I'm finished.

Note: An early Christmas story. Not episode related.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Most likely nanites," Dr Bishop nodded, his eyebrow raised. "Wonderful piece of engineering. Apparently silicon and silver based. It is so uplifting, --never seen anything like this before… have I?"

He twisted around in his chair to Peter, cheerful apprehension written all over his face.

"I'm thinking low intensity electromagnetic fields," he added, going back to his computer.

Peter shrugged and leaned to the microscope.

"That's a wild guess Walter, you of all people should know that it cannot exist," he trailed, with a quick glance to calculation spreadsheets. "Walter? Have you got anything to do with that 'thing'?"

He turned to Olivia and Astrid.

"By any chance, did he work on nanotechnology two decades ago, please, anyone? 1991, I imagine it would be possible," he muttered to himself.

He was displaying a big crease in the middle of his forehead and looked unsettled. Both women came closer. Agent Astrid Farnsworth took a quick look into the microscope and made a face.

"You mean nanites like in… Replicators?" Agent Olivia Dunham's voice was hesitant.

Peter shoved his hands inside his jeans pockets and turned to her.

"Oh, a Stargate fan, are we?" he smiled. "Nanotech has been a fantastic scientific breakthrough and its applications are endless but we're not quite there yet. We can't replicate humans, or guinea pigs not even amoeba, if it is your concern."

"I, … --I don't understand. You're actually saying that this 'thing' doesn't exist?"

"I'm saying that nanites are really, really small. A nanometer would be the length a man's beard grows during the split second he takes the razor to his face," he offered with a grin.

"Ok…" she said, her eyes intent.

"At nanoscale, everything you learn in your typical Physics or Chemistry 101, you can forget already. Copper turns transparent, aluminium is inflammable, gold is liquid, silicon becomes conductor. Nanotechnology is used just about everywhere today. In drug delivery, treating waste-water or even reducing unwanted odour in your underwear…"

"Marilyn didn't wear any!" rejoiced Walter who span away from his lab bench with energy. "Boop-boop-a-doop…" he hummed, taking Astrid in his arms for a few dancing steps.

He let go of her to sit in front of the piano and improvise a cartoonish tune. She went back to her filing and Gene gave him a moo of appreciation in the background.

"… making clothes water and stain-repellent or wrinkle-free," was continuing Peter. "We use nanotechnology to produce more environmentally friendly energy systems such as LEDs or rechargeable batteries, to build integrated circuits, memory storage. Even in our food."

"Ok, ok, I get it. Everywhere. But what has it got to do with anything?"

"Walter seems to think that this… 'thing' is man-made. You have to imagine a combination of trillion tiny pieces bonded together to make an actual device. If it is, it's quality craftsmanship because it is merely impossible."

"Massive Dynamic?"

"Yes, my thought exactly. Their Quantum-Digital Networking is proof enough that they master the technology."

"Olivia!" Walter called from the piano. "Is she in the lab?"

"Yes she is, Walter."

"You need anything Dr. Bishop?" Olivia volunteered.

"You can call me Walter," he stood up and turned to her, raising his hand to shake hers. "Good morning, I'm Dr. Walter Bishop and this is my lab."

"She knows who you are, Walter."

"Excellent! Olivia, I will need an ATM."

She cast an inquisitive glance at Peter.

"An ATM is an atomic force microscope," he explained. "It's a very high-resolution microscope, which demonstrates resolution of fractions of a nanometer."

"I see. Now?" she asked, reaching for her phone.

"Obviously now! How do you expect me to work if…" Walter yelled before returning to his cool when he faced Peter's disapproving stare. "As soon as you can my dear," he continued in a gentler tone. "Oh… and, --Ingrid? I will need a pound of sour raspberries and a bottle of Triple Sec."

He went back to his desk but stopped in his tracks.

"Could you get me a jeroboam of Perrier-Jouët too?"

"A what?" Astrid was standing between Peter and his father, her arms full of files and test tubes.

"A very large champagne bottle holding the equivalent of four standard bottles, I'd say, 108 fl. oz?" Peter explained.

"Yes, yes it is!"

"And just to clarify, Walter, you want her to get only Perrier-Jouët Champagne? Specifically… why?"

"I like the name, it's a good name," Walter said flatly, "and a gallon of guava juice."

"Here you go Astrid. I think that Walter is willing to fix a Christmas cocktail for us."

"Don't forget the bucket. And glasses, Asteria, glasses!"

"Martini glasses Walter?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "And macadamia nuts, and olives, green olives. Lots, lots of olives. I shall go and make some ice."

"You do that Walter. Astrid, buy us a turkey please, just to be on the safe side, ok?" said Peter.

-o-

-141-

She could not believe that she was in front of the same hotel door at five in the morning for the third time. She flipped her ID at the two surveillance agents and stood before the door for a minute. She bent her head, took a deep breath and rapped loudly on the door, then stepped back. If Walter had kept Peter awake for the best part of the night, it was going to be the first challenge of her day to have him up and running quickly. She tucked her hair behind her ear and waited.

The two agents gave her the thumbs up and she smiled back, vaguely embarrassed. She had been thinking over this whole Bureau façade, the staying-at-the-hotel-while-we-look-for-the-right-place-for-you-to-stay. As far as she knew, nobody was really trying to find an apartment for the Bishops. It had been two months already and she knew for a fact that Homeland Security possessed a complete catalog of flats, condos, and other various accommodations; they were not just ready to trust them yet with independent housing.

On the other hand, her place was huge --far too big for her anyway with John out of the picture and her personal life on permanent hold, and she had plenty of room to put them up. She wouldn't even have to see them except for kitchen arrangements and the occasional morning ride when Peter's car would fail him. She was on the verge of knocking again when the door flung open.

Peter was standing in the doorway, haggard, his eyes reddened by another sleepless night, sporting his usual stubble and he was fully dressed.

"Dunham," he said matter-of-factly. "The more the merrier, come on in."

She shook her head. "Actually, Broyles sends me…"

Peter gestured her to keep quiet.

"I bet he does and he simply will have to wait. How much time do you have? Does he need Walter too? Or does he need me?" he asked.

She hesitated. He was right. There was no emergency, just her usual eager response to orders.

"Err… half an hour, an hour at most; only you."

"Perfect. Come on in then. We're almost done."

"Done? What… Oh," she said, stopping before the coffee table, "I see."

Walter was facing a chess board and seemed totally out of this world.

"Walter learnt of Bobby Fisher's death only yesterday and it broke his heart. He decided he was in the mood for re-enacting the Match of the Century," said Peter. He sat down and moved the knight to queen's bishop. "You have to see it as a tribute to the Man. We are playing every game that took place between Fischer and Boris Spassky for the World Chess Championship in Iceland in 1972. I'm playing Fisher. Walter thought he could beat me."

"I don't understand. Fisher won, didn't he?"

"Yep. And I will."

She took a look around.

"Where do you keep the original game records?"

Peter tapped his head with his forefinger. "Everything is in here. Don't ask."

"Ok."

"Make yourself at home," he said. "We've got vodka, tequila, gin, whisky…"

"Coffee?"

"Sorry, don't have."

"That's ok."

"It won't be long. It's the 21st game. Walter played badly in the endgame. We're almost over. In less than five minutes, he will have no other choice but to resign the game and go to bed."

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Nope. But I will -in the car, eventually. Fill me in," he asked, attentive to his father's game. They were playing so fast she could not keep up.

"We found another device. Broyles wants us to make a general sweep with the scientific teams and canvass the area asap."

"Walter. Your move, please, we don't have all night," said Peter.

"Yes, yes, sorry, I was hoping Olivia could get me something."

He moved his pawn, Peter his Queen.

"Checkmate," Peter announced.

"Of course Walter," she said gently. "What do you need?"

"An escort, I need. I am in great need of companionship," he said forcefully, avoiding Peter's glare.

Olivia went beet red and closed her eyes briefly. This was not happening. Peter brushed her hand with his fingers.

"Walter don't take advantage of Olivia's natural heedfulness, you should be ashamed of yourself. I told you I'll take care of it."

"You will?" Walter was heading to the bathroom.

"Yes, I will Walter. Now it's time to go to bed. Your toothbrush is…"

"White for Walter. Yes."

"Excellent. Shall we go Liv?"

"Peter?" Walter was standing still in the middle of the hotel room, his hair dishevelled, in his pyjamas and staring at his son with puppy eyes.

"Yes Walter?"

"May I have a hug?"

"Of course. Here you go."

Walter managed to bear hug him long enough for Peter to protest. He released him and went to Olivia, extending his arm with a disarming smile. She let him hug her.

"He likes you," he whispered in her ear. "Don't hurt him, he's my little boy."

-o-

"Don't tell me you were anticipating that we could actually find something?" said Peter with a smirk.

"I don't know what I was anticipating," she said in a toneless voice, putting a flat hand on her forehead with a sigh, "but I was expecting a result, a sign, a clue, something, anything."

She bit her lip and letting off steam, she kicked into a pile of dirt and slush and faced him more briskly than she intended.

"The more we search, the less we know."

"Isn't it the name of the game?"

She smiled.

"Yes, you're right, I need to focus."

"No, you want to see the big picture but you lack perspective."

"Yes, it's frustrating."

"And what you NEED is the Bishop treatment."

She frowned and felt that her cheeks were turning bright hot. She pursed her mouth. God, she was an open book. She stared at him tentatively with no idea where his teasing banter was actually going.

"Don't panic just yet," he smiled aware of her embarrassment and apparently enjoying himself at the view, "and hear me out. First you've got to relax and try Walter's potion. I called Astrid this afternoon and she was not making any sense, so I guess this is a good year."

"Try Walter's potion. Can do," she smiled.

She walked back to the car, signalling to the scientific teams they were leaving and gave her attention back to Peter.

"Then a night on the town, nothing fancy, just the two of us over diner," he added, opening the car door.

"Japanese?" she prompted, sitting inside the car.

"Italian?"

"French?"

They slammed the doors shut at the same time and found themselves wrapped inside a silent cool bubble. He turned to her.

"Ok," he nodded. "Then a walk in the park."

"A walk in the park?" She clenched the steering wheel and her mouth twitched a little. "You're kidding right? It's freezing hard after 8:00pm."

"Scratch the walk then," he shrugged.

"A last nightcap, perhaps?"

His smile went wider than ever.

"At this point, neither of us can drive so we will have to share a cab," he nodded.

"You'll drop me at my place; it's closer to town."

"Don't get carried away," he urged her.

Their cosy bubble popped and she could almost hear the sharp sound. He continued, ignoring her trouble.

"First thing first. We have to make some arrangements."

"I'm listening."

"The day after tomorrow is Christmas eve, and trust me, I can't believe I'm actually saying that, --but what if –and it's a big 'what if' I'm talking about here--, what if the four of us were having a casual Christmas Eve dinner at your place? You understand it can't be at the hotel…"

"The four of us?"

"You, Astrid and the Bishops."

"Astrid is going to spend the week in Chicago with her folks. She's leaving tomorrow."

"I see… Charlie then?"

"He won't be around either. The Bureau sent him away on the West Coast on a mission; I don't think he will be back in time."

"That's just the three of us then, unless you want me to invite Broyles."

She grinned.

"I don't think so. What do we need?"

"Astrid bought the turkey already, unless you want to order some dinner, I can cook."

"I'm afraid that apart from salt and pepper, there's not much you can improvise on at my place," she confessed mulling over lonely evenings with Jack Daniel chewing on old fruit loops.

"Don't apologize. We'll just have to run some errands. Walter will help with cakes and cocktails, that leaves you in charge of decorating the place. So do we have a plan?"

"Absolutely."

"Will you do me the honour of joining me in my quest for the ultimate Christmas food?"

"Now?"

"Why not? Oh, I almost forgot. By any chance, do you have any dress that you could wear for the occasion or do you want me to help you pick one?

-o-

_Please please review!! Is it any good? Should I write the rest???_


	2. Chapter 2

**FRINGE**

**Fourth Time is the Charm**

Fringe doesn't belong to me though it would be fun. I'm borrowing the characters and I promise I will put them back in their box when I'm finished.

Note: _Here's the next chapter! I know it's not much but I'm kind of having writer's block right now. Some feedback would be good to get me back on track ;)_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The lab was empty and a small Christmas tree was happily blinking near Gene. Instead of Christmas carols, Walter's laptop was playing "_The Very Best of Peter Allen_". She turned to Peter and made a face of apology. Peter went past her and rushed in directly to Walter's lab bench.

"You understand I had to answer that call, don't you?" she asked, following him to the desk.

She seemed more relaxed and her poised attitude contrasted with Peter's restive agitation. She sat down and started fiddling with an ammonite fossil, a personal artefact recently retrieved from Walter's hidden collection in the Boston area.

"I totally understand. As a matter of fact, I can see a pattern already. Of course you remember you did exactly the same thing yesterday when you left me Chez Raymond, don't you? You know I can't even begin to articulate what's worse, you leaving because of a phone call or the fact that you didn't give me time to have one single bite of my _sole meunière_."

"You should have stayed and finished you dinner instead of tagging along."

"The whole point of this evening together was to organize our special Christmas dinner not to spend another evening alone with Walter listening to his crazy obsessions. Do you know that he is into chemical elements lately, and rebuilding the periodic table from an historical point of view starting with actually re-writing history from his own perspective?"

He was searching the desk and seemed more and more edgy by the minute.

"I know I failed you and I'm sorry about that. But that's what I do," she said gently. She bit her lip. This did not come out right, she thought.

"You mean leave people or work yourself crazy? Even in Broyles' book, I supposed you're not compelled to be on duty 24/7, are you? Someone's got to sleep, and I'm pretty sure it's not me."

"I'm sorry. I know you pulled strings to get us this reservation…"

"That's not the point. It leaves me with barely half of what I need to make a proper Christmas dinner," he said, "and you with no dress…"

She chuckled. What was it with his new obsession to find her a dress anyway?

"I know, it's frustrating, the Department will have to make it up to you," she teased him.

"I would rather prefer that you did," he said bluntly.

She blushed, surprised by this unforeseen honesty.

"Aren't you glad we found at least our first real lead?"

"How shall I put it? I'm overwhelmed, beguiled, speechless --my best Christmas present ever!"

Peter gave a little shake to the Petri dish on the bench and turned back to Olivia.

"Those nanites, as far as I'm concerned, can rest or keep on living their nanite lives until next week. Are you the only American woman in her late twenties who does not conform to tradition? Astrid is gone too. She has a life. Look, even Walter's gone," he said waving a typed note from his father.

The sheet was stained with various compounds in different colours.

"Listen," he begins to read the note. "_Project 899 - Exploration_, well he scratched that actually. I guess he's just recycling his lab notes," he shrugged, "here is the part that's interesting. _The lab I shall leave, Christmas is alive, rejoice, rejoice children, many other devices ought to be out there, off I go to see the Wizard, and the Wicked Witch of the West, thank you Peter and Olivia, best wishes to the Bureau and HLS,_ _teeny, tiny bikini and a green tree…"_

"What do you mean he's gone?"

"Well, it does make sense. We were supposed to pick him up at three and it's six already."

"Are you serious, he's gone and you're not worried?"

"I guess he didn't want to wait until midnight to get his present. Are you not listening? On the contrary, I'm relieved! He's gone to see the wicked witch, taa-taa!" he emphasized, "you want me to draw it for you?"

"Oh… the… oh, I see."

She frowned.

"The escort was supposed to be my Christmas present. Well part of his Christmas present anyway. He will have to wait for his cashmere scarf until tomorrow or whenever he's decent again."

"You think it's appropriate?"

"Appropriate to give him a scarf?" he joked half-heartedly. "Olivia, the man was in an institution for the last seventeen years for crying out loud. Give him a break. You of all people should know that he had not had much time to socialize outside this lab."

For whatever reason on his agenda, Peter did not want to acknowledge the fact that she was so obnoxiously embarrassed to discuss Walter's sex life with him.

"You're right, I'm… overreacting."

"You don't think he ever happened to be particularly good with women, do you? My mother always said that he was a pretty horrible husband to begin with. He just didn't think that being nice was a requisite back then, and you know first hand that he still doesn't."

She nodded, blushing again. Of course he had every reason to be angry, it was Christmas and Walter had failed him again as had she. They haven't seen each other in years, and he was certainly hoping that he could spend Christmas with a friend and his father. Walter wasn't here for him when he was a child, not the way a parent is supposed to be, so he learned to live without him. Against all odds, Peter was open to repairing their relationship. Certainly life was about making mistakes, but the mistakes you make with your kids they never go away, they just grow. Surely, Walter was supposed to wait and she was not supposed to ruin their moment.

"Well, it's certainly easier that way and you don't want to know," he said dismissively. "So, what's next? You want us to chase your nanite Leprechauns, follow your lead? If it takes too much time, we'll have to re-schedule."

"Re-schedule Christmas?"

"Why not? We can decide whenever we want Christmas to be, or if we cannot that should be a problem with your line of work. I don't want to celebrate one Christmas every ten years."

"Not to mention the fact that we already bought so much food."

"On the bright side, with Walter gone, no possible culprit to spike our drinks," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Are you sure?"

He smiled and waved his phone.

"Let me make sure he's good, and after that, I'm all yours."

-o-

Peter was right. She should have thrown away every single piece of clothes that remotely reminded her of John Scott long ago. It was bad enough that he was inside her head, --and it was not going away, not without Walter's help that is. She could not get rid of him but she did not have to bring back stupid memories by keeping stuff she did not care about.

While Peter was busy cooking, she had screened out her closets and discarded everything related to John. Peter had been dead serious when he meant everything. No stacking of t-shirts for shoe polishing or kitchen refurbishing purpose. Same thing with her three dresses. And no keeping of some souvenir sweaters with the lame excuse of an alternate use such as gardening.

"Who are you kidding? You'll never find time to have a rose garden and a pristine lawn, not in this lifetime you won't. Make it a direct-to-charity selection, god damn it!"

If she had kept her favourite blue skirt, the one she was wearing when she met John, she knew that eventually she would find herself raiding her dressing room and get no comfort into finding it. She mulled over some fancy underwear she retrieved while exploring her last drawer and finally put them back inside. They were brand new. She never had the chance to wear them, so she was supposed to be on the safe side.

It was the right decision to get it over with quickly and a spirited feel-good endeavour especially with Peter around. Bags of clothes were piled up in her garage already and she will take them to her favourite charity next week. Her closets felt weird with only strings of black pant suits and white blouses and she was glad that Peter had insisted on shopping for some "decent clothes" before going to her place.

She sat the last candle on the table and took a step back to admire her work. Peter was absolutely right on insisting upon having a Christmas dinner even if it was only for the two of them. They deserved to have a good time just as the next average Joe.

She had to check on him before going upstairs to her room and change. He has secluded himself inside the kitchen for the last two hours and if it has not been for the incredible smell and his continuing singing and drumming with and on kitchen utensils, she could have thought she was alone.

-o-

_So..... what do you think?_


	3. Chapter 3

**FRINGE**

**Fourth Time is the Charm**** - part 3**

Fringe doesn't belong to me though it would be fun. I'm borrowing the characters and I promise I will put them back in their box when I'm finished.

Note: _this is only a short piece ;) i can't wait to have your comment! please?  
_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"How are you holding up?" Peter said from the kitchen door.

He was wiping glasses with a dish towel. She was so enthralled in her reverie that she did not hear him coming and started in surprise at the sound of his voice. Frowning, he came closer, his head tilted in concern.

"I didn't… I-I-, I'm sorry… "

"That's ok… -my fault, I didn't mean to startle you," he trailed. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, yes, I am. You were right, that getting rid of everything related to John… it was kind of liberating actually," she smiled, hiding her embarrassment behind a strand of her hair in a very girlie self-conscious fashion.

"But…" he prompted her, "I'm sensing a but…"

"No, there's no but. I'm quite happy I'm done with cleaning my closets. Everything is piled up in the garage," she waved dismissively towards the backdoor. "I shall take care of it after Christmas."

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"No, no! It needed to be done and I probably should have a long time ago."

"But?" he insisted.

She shrugged. "But I'm not sure that it's enough to make it go away."

"It takes time," Peter nodded with a look of understanding on his face. He placed his hand on her elbow and guided her to the couch. He slouched down and patted the cushion next to him.

"Come on, I won't bite," he joked. "Seriously, how are you holding up?"

"Quite frankly? I don't know yet," she confessed in a low voice, slumping next to him on her bent leg. She leaned against the back of the couch, put her arm on top of it with her head resting on her closed fist. "I guess it's the right thing to do if I ever want to get rid of my personal ghosts."

"Quite frankly, and I have no intention of raining on your parade, it's only a start. It's a slow process. Not only you have to grieve for the loss of your…" he hesitated.

"… partner…" she offered.

He nodded. "… partner, yes, but you have to live in a world where he betrayed you and left you alone to deal with it. I want you to know that I'm here for you. And I always will be -every step of the way."

She smiled, unwanted tears welling up in her eyes and bit her lip. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You didn't get carried away did you? Tell me you didn't discard all these Japanese school girl like white blouses and sexy black pant suits of yours, please? I would dearly miss them."

"I didn't," she chuckled, eyelashes fluttering awkwardly. "You know, it's easier to wear the same clean pressed outfit every day. No pressure, no waste of time."

"Einstein fan aren't we? His dressing room was full of identical suits, shirts and ties. He supposedly owned several copies of the same suit to better spend time that would have been wasted picking out clothes… to his wife's dismay, I must add. And now," he jumped from the couch, startling her again, "on a brighter note, I fixed us a cocktail. Walter's special recipe!" He retrieved a shaker from the table. "Nice work by the way," pointing a finger at her table decoration, "I'm glad we went for silver and blue instead of..."

"… red and green? Yes, it's much more comforting. That red and green thingy is totally overrated," she grinned watching him pour a blue liquid into two large cocktail glasses.

He added a slice of kiwi and some seltzer and went back to the settee.

"Here you go!" he perched on the edge of the coffee table before her and raised his glass. "To the ghosts of Christmas past!"

"To Christmas…"

"To us…" he said clinking his glass with hers. "I'm hoping you're nothing like Einstein because he was not into food either, not into new kind of food in fact, and I'm only saying this because you're about to be treated with a sensational dinner."

"I can see that your natural self-restraint is keeping you from bragging."

"I may be fifty points North of genius, a misfit and a massive pain in the ass but…

"Who told you that?"

"Astrid, like in agent Astrid Farnsworth, your assistant Astrid. She actually shares the lab with us, you remember? People talk, they're only human."

"She's soo dead!"

"… but, and listen cause this is the good part: I'm actually quite good in the kitchen," he said with a smirk, "-among other things."

He was rewarded by a clumsy glance and more blushing. She might be a tough FBI agent, she is so easily embarrassed, he thought.

"What are we in for?" she finally asked.

"You'll see," he tantalized her, "and wait for dessert. That's a classic!"

"Mmmm, if it's anything as good as this," she said sipping on her cocktail, "you betcha."

"I'll leave you to your drink. I'd like to freshen up a bit and call Walter. Make sure everything's ok."

"I put fresh towels in the bathroom."

He took a look around.

"Your bag is in the guest room… and I made up your bed."

"You made up a bed for me?"

"I was not sure about your arrangements with your father. I guess you both need some privacy at some point…"

"I do?"

She went beet red, --again.

"I mean with your 'special' present…"

"I know what you mean. No sweat. I'll be back in a flash. No peeking into my kitchen, right?"

"So it's your kitchen now?"

-o-

"Want to go to a midnight mass or something? I can't take any more of that 'It's a Wonderful Life' crap."

Peter jumped from the couch and turned to Olivia. She was wearing a black one-shoulder dress with cap sleeve and tulip skirt. The embroidered beaded waistband matched her simple gold necklace and garnet pendant. She seemed genuinely surprised at Peter's outburst. As a sign of goodwill, she turned down the volume of the television.

"I know it's your typical Christmas movie but I find it getting weirder and weirder by the minute."

"What do you mean? It's such an uplifting piece. I remember my mum and I used to watch this movie every Christmas eve," she said softly.

"My point exactly. Uplifting, nspirational, moving and people just can't stop raving about poor Jim Stewart and his family…"

"Oh… I see."

"I don't think you do but can we go now please, would you come with me? I'd rather go out and get trashed than take any more of this… soppiness, thank you very much." He shrugged.

Now he was pacing the room, a deep vertical wrinkle in the middle of his forehead, and he did not seem to want to let go. His evening suit was a bit creased, his hair was all tousled up and he was very agitated. Maybe he is worried about his father, she thought. Or I've done something that makes him uncomfortable. Or he's not into old black and white soppy movies and she was trying too hard to find a reason.

"Don't you think you've had enough to drink already? You sure you want to go out? It's freezing outside and there was a white Christmas forecast from the Weather Channel. I don't want to end up stranded in a SUV on a Christmas night in a storm only because you're not a fan of George Bailey."

"I'm sorry." He stopped dead in his tracks and came nearer. He sat on the side of the couch and leaned towards her. "You're right, I probably have had too much too drink but I can't…"

"Ok, don't bother. We'll go for a ride but I drive. And we'll skip the mass if you don't mind. It's going to be a crowd and I was kind of hoping to spend my only free evening in a quiet place with a friend."

"I have an idea. Why don't we go to the lab then? There's a piano, and we can take my surprise dessert? So is it a plan?"

-o-

_What do you think? I can totally picture them at the lab for Xmas..._


	4. Chapter 4

**FRINGE**

**Fourth Time is the Charm**** - part 4**

_Fringe doesn't belong to me though it would be fun. I'm borrowing the characters and I promise I will put them back in their box when I'm finished.__ Obviously, thanks to Star Trek, Stargate sg1, Harry Potter, Get Smart, Boston Legal, for being a constant inspiration!_

Note: New (lighter) chapter!!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"What is it that you think you're doing Walter!?" said Peter in a forceful voice, barging inside the lab, Olivia in his trail. He sat his bags on the floor and rushed to Walter's side.

Because of two floodlights and strings of fairy lights blinking joyfully, dripping from the ceiling and running along the walls, the room had never been so brightly illuminated. Christmas carols were playing softly in the background.

"Peter! I'm glad you could come. What do you think?" Walter asked, extending his arms ecstatically,

"Yes sure, I love what you've done with the place," Peter said with a smirk.

"I'm making eggnog, it is almost ready."

"And who are these lovely ladies Walter?"

"Oh… yes, of course, I'm being rude, you will have to excuse me I have been very busy. Please meet Janet. And this is Samantha and Valerie. Oh, and Carolyn, sorry dear, I had forgotten about you."

Peter went past them with a nod, dragging Walter along to Olivia's office, leaving a puzzled Olivia to deal with Walter's guests. He slammed the door behind them and turned to his father.

"Ok Walter, listen carefully," he said in a menacing tone contrasting with Walter's happy face, "is there anything you don't understand within the boundaries of _'top secret facility'_ concept? Let me make it clear for you: this lab is not your property, it's US government property and what we do in here is like, say, for your eyes only kind of implied. I was not expecting you to plant signs outside for people to gather in here."

"I did not plant signs Peter," the doctor objected matter-of-factly, "the ground is hard frozen."

"Obviously you didn't. Forget it. What about this. You remember we talk of ONE lady friend, Walter, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, we did. But Janet is my friend. Well, technically, she's my friend's daughter."

"Oh, is she?"

"Yes, and a MIT drop out, just like you are!" he pleaded.

"I see… and Samantha over there?" said Peter, pointing at her through the glass wall, "she's your friend's daughter too?"

"No, she would be Janet's friend."

"And you're going to tell me she was awarded the Nobel Prize for her achievements in Mathematics last year?"

"Peter! You should know that there is no such prize pertaining to the subject! Samantha is a quantum physicist."

"I bet she is and I'm Santa Claus," Peter snarled. He let Walter out the room and they went back to the lab.

"Oh, you brought gifts?" Walter said turning back to his son. "How thoughtful of you Peter… Olivia! here you are, you're enjoying the party?"

"Ok that's it. I don't even want to know anything about the other two you invited. This party is officially over Walter. I'm calling this off as of… --right now," he hesitated, his attention diverted by something in the middle of the lab. "Wait a minute, what is THIS?" In three long strides, he was near the metallic pole.

"Peter, I won't have time to fix our beverages properly if you keep interrupting me… This is a dance pole obviously. It is said to be a very good and tonic exercise."

Walter caught the pole with one hand and swirled around it in a quick motion.

"I read an article in _Science_ about the benefits of exercising with a dance pole they seem to be far better than cardio training or even jogging."

"Is it fringe benefits we're talking about here Walter? Well, as long as you don't intend to strip down or only to strip down when you're alone, I can live with a dance pole in the lab."

"And it is going to be very beneficial to Astrabad and Olivia."

"I can't wait…"

"Hello Walter," said Olivia in a gentle voice.

"Olivia!" cheered Walter, planting a peck on her cheek. "You're going to help me with the eggnog."

He took her by the elbow and was leading her to his bench when Peter stopped him.

"Walter, one last thing," he leaned to Walter's ear and asked in a whisper. "Where are the… devices?"

"You mean the nanite device?"

The doctor's voice boomed inside the lab. Peter's frown went bigger.

"Yes I know where they are. I took care of the devices in due time."

"Like in throw them out to the garbage taking care of?"

"Peter, don't be crazy; you should know that one cannot throw away such sensible piece of equipment along with domestic waste! No, no, of course," he lowered his voice with a conniving smile, "I placed them in a secrete place, not to worry."

"This is getting better and better. I should have known this was a bad idea, a very, very bad idea to leave you on your own, Walter."

"But I'm not alone, I'm with my friends."

"What ever happened to the brunette we selected together online from the, err… catalogue?"

"She was dumb, I'm sorry I have to confess that Peter, but she was really so dumb. I simply could not put up with her any longer, she was impossible to talk to, you see. And she voted for…"

"No politics, Walter, no politics, please! So, first thing first. For the last time, where did you hide the devices?"

"Didn't I tell you that already? I placed them inside a containment field."

"A containment field? Like in a force field you mean?"

"Indeed. Very good analogy Peter!"

"You are aware this doesn't exist, aren't you, you're not a Star Trek fan, you're living in a hotel."

"Of course it exists! In 1975, I posited that when matter…"

"Ok, ok, not on Christmas eve please. I believe you. What do you plan on inventing next anyway? Teleportation? Cone of silence? Invisibility cloak?"

"You read my notes?"

"This is going to be fun to have this conversation eight or nine hours from now. No Walter, I did not read your notes. You're positive that there are in a safe place? It's all I want to know right now."

"Absolutely safe, Peter, you have my word. By any chance, you did not bring any sake with you did you? Sake eggnog is my favourite."

"Sorry Walter, no. Where did you find eggs by the way? Last time I checked we did not have any at the lab or at the hotel, for that matter."

"Didn't I tell you that it would have been easier to get some hens to begin with…"

"To keep Gene company?"

"No, no! To have fresh eggs of course," he said, measuring something white in a test tube. "Therefore, I had to ask someone for eggs."

"Someone? Astrid is gone to see her folks. Charlie Francis is in LA, sipping margaritas near a pool and enjoying himself, whom did you ask Walter? Tell me. Now!"

Walter poured the white powder from the tube inside a large jar.

"Agent Broyles. He was very helpful. He sent me everything I needed without any dither."

"Everything?"

"Yes, I always thought that it would be convenient to have a scanning electron m_icroscope _handy," stated Walter, sparkling generously cinnamon and nutmeg inside the jar.

"I have the funny feeling you're not telling me everything Walter."

"A new electric inoculating turntable."

"And?"

"A high-performance liquid chromatographer with tandem mass spectrometry detection."

"Oh, that's a nice touch!"

"Could you stir the preparation for me son. And don't ever stop, that's paramount to the success of that beverage. I will get some milk now," he walked away but turned round, changing his mind. "And Florence flasks."

"What are planning to produce from your distillation experiments?"

"Mmm… you're spoiling the surprise son, be patient."

"I give up." Seemingly coming back to the surrounding reality of the place, he gave a look around and frowned again. "What have you done with Olivia?"

"Your friend is chatting with mine," said Walter proudly.

"They are not really scientists are they?"

"_And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?_"

-o-

"He said it was his special recipe," she brushed the keyboard with her left hand.

Walter played a light chord in arpeggios and smiled. "Yes, mine," he nodded, adding a few more chords.

Valerie was leaning on the piano and swaying to the tempo.

"He said it was his mother's recipe actually."

"Mine, mine, she always used mine." He was playing softly now. "You see, the difference with my recipe, is that you have to add this special ingredient that makes all the difference."

"Oh…"

"I only perfected it, because the great François Vatel was the inventor. Genius, pure genius," he stroke the keyboard with Marc-Antoine Charpentier' Christmas Eve Midnight Mass _Kyrie_.

"François Vatel?"

"Vatel was the famous chef of a prince, during the reign of the Sun King. La Marquise de Sévigné speaks of him as the man who committed suicide because on a Friday, when the king was coming to dinner, the fish failed to arrive in time."

He played some gloomy chords from the _Christe_.

"You sure know how to strike a chord and charm a lady Walter," said Peter.

Walter did not flinch at the double-entendre.

"You'll be happy to hear that I put your –other, friends in a cab. They are en route to wherever they belong as we speak."

"You made my recipe for her Peter? You must like her very much."

"It is not your recipe. It is mum's."

"It is only a technicality."

"Here you go again."

"No, I don't. Your mother was most certainly an excellent cook, but this recipe is mine."

To prove his point, he improvised a variation of _Night and Day_.

"Very good Walter, why don't you play some more of this for us?"

"More Cole Porter? Excellent, excellent idea, Peter. What would you like to hear?"

"I leave you the judge of that Walter. Olivia may I?" he said reaching out to her.

She nodded and stood up, letting him hold her hand while he led her to a vacant spot in the lab. Valerie immediately took her place near Walter and cuddled against him. He was playing a very personal intro of _Begin the Beguine_.

Olivia and Peter faced each other and began to dance to the music.

_any comment??_


	5. Chapter 5

**FRINGE**

**Fourth Time is the Charm - part 5**

_Fringe doesn't belong to me though it would be fun. I'm borrowing the characters and I promise I will put them back in their box when I'm finished. _

Note: mild spoilers for The Dreamscape [109]It's Christmas and Pete & Olivia are enjoying the day. I'm expecting your reviews!!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She woke up to the smell of fresh coffee. She did not move for a while, her mouth twitched in contentment, enjoying that simple moment. Through her closed eyelids, she was feeling the bright light outside her bedroom window that was proof of a white Christmas. Weather forecasts were accurate for once, she thought, it was going to be a real Christmas day, and her smile widened imagining children busy with their new toys and trying their brand new bicycles on the front lawns. Lucky enough, if the snow was packing, they would probably build snowmen. Building a snowman always provided her an entertaining afternoon as a child. And it was a creative way to get some fresh air on a lazy winter day, away from her folks gathered home and prompt to squabble over her mother's downfall. She toyed a few more minutes with the idea of spending Christmas in bed with a good book and the TV remote handy. Stretching her arms, she finally reached out for her phone with a sigh and checked her messages. For the very first time in weeks, her box was empty.

And it was almost noon, no wonder John had already fixed them breakfast, she smiled to herself.

Then her smile froze. John never had time to move in with her except in her latest nightmares. As far as she was concerned, that engagement ring did not prove anything except that he was ready to bring his scam to an upper level. Silently, she retrieved her gun from her bedside table, got out of bed silently and proceeded with caution to the kitchen.

She gave a side glance to her laptop which was shut down. No funny messages, no system alert sounds, no blinking light. She was not having another episode, this was very real. The smell was real, this smell was real, this smell had to be real… She blinked several times, trying to fight back unwelcomed tears of frustration and anger.

If only she could reach the kitchen without coming across John, she had no doubt that she could ambush him in there. If only he was in the kitchen, if only… she could shoot him, shoot him and see what it does to him to be shot at, --at point-blank range. She never tried that before because he was dead of course and only a figment of her imagination, --but was he… really? and probably because you don't shoot dead people, unless you have no other choice, unless you have to. She never shot him before, because she was not fast enough. As far as she knew, today, there was nothing that was preventing her from shooting his living talking walking breathing perfectly functional intrusive body and getting him out of her life once and for all. If only…

When she finally made it to the kitchen, she turned her back to the wall next to the door and leaned against it, listening attentively, keeping her breath even. No signs of brushing against furniture, no utensil shatter, no chair rattle. Nothing, not a tremor, not a sound. She closed her eyes, focused, took a deep breath and threw herself against the door. She barged in, both hands clutching her gun, aiming as fast as she could in every direction. Not a soul. She charged inside the rear closet. Empty.

The front door slammed making her aim towards the bang and Peter came inside, pushing the kitchen door with his shoulder, holding flowers and fresh pastries.

"Wow, wow, wow… hold your horses Liv! That's only croissants and tulips. I know I told you I was here for you but I was not hinting that you chose to turn me into your own moving practice target. Not exactly my idea of a Christmas present."

"Peter…"

Her voice was only a faint whisper. She gave him a blank stare, turned white and pointed her weapon back to the ground, suddenly helpless.

"You ok?"

He sat his errands on the table and took the gun from her.

"Come on, you got to sit down. Breathe, it's going to be ok…"

He helped her to the chair, ready to catch her. She let him put his hand on her arm –at least it was real, wasn't it?- and did as she was told. She breathed heavily, and started eventually to shiver a little, averting his eyes. He kneeled before her. She tucked her chin into her chest, tears rolling on her bare thighs.

"What's going on? Is it John?"

When he placed a calming hand on her bare arm, she realized she was in a tank top and a flannel boxer short, her bare feet on the cool tiles. She shook her head and gave him a puppy look, trying to push away her hair from her eyes.

"I thought…"

"Are you stressed out or are you cold? Or both?" he asked with concern.

"No, I'm not cold. What… what are you doing here?"

"You don't remember do you? The dance pole, Walter's party, our crazy night…"

"The dance pole? As in bare dancing pole?" she asked.

She was still staring, obviously embarrassed.

"I did not notice that you've had that much to drink, but you did invite me back to your place last night."

"Did… did something happen… I mean, did we… you know…?" she waved a hand at him and finally locked her eyes on his, biting her lower lip.

"You…" he smiled, "you don't have a clue do you?"

"Sorry."

"Rest assured that nothing happened. At least I can testify that nothing happened between you and me."

She smiled, seemingly disappointed somehow –and puzzled.

"What do you mean? Did I drink too much and made a spectacle of myself?"

"Yes and no. No, no," he was laughing now. "When we were at the lab, you said that you wanted to give Walter some space."

He stood up still facing her and sat a plate of pastries on the table before her, poured her a large mug of hot coffee.

"Milk?"

She nodded.

"… for Valerie?" he hinted.

"Oh… yes, the lab, the girls, Valerie... That I recall. And your 'special' dessert. The rest of the evening is a total blur."

"Ok, that's a start. Maybe Walter did spike your drink after all… Well, let's get some breakfast into you, a hot shower to follow and you'll be as good as new!"

-o-

While she was in the bathroom, he made a quick tour of her place. The day before, he was expecting to find a very functional flat. It was not. Olivia was apparently fond of lamps, bedside lamps, table lamps, and every available spot that could be filled with light was and it was a comfortable place actually, with a twist of old fashioned design. Hardwood floors, thick carpets in pastel colours, Danish wooden furniture. Her bedroom was a shambles, with magazines and books and newspapers everywhere, sexy underwear sticking out of a drawer, piles of clean clothes waiting to be ironed and he spotted unusual Dunham material, --black suede high heeled pumps discarded under her wardrobe. It was kind of turning into a habit, after the outrageous golden sandals she was wearing the night before, he thought.

In the living room, there were shelves with rows after rows of books about architecture and gardens, and piles of scientific policing précis and lots of documentation sat on a bamboo coffee table, --and more lamps. He was trying to make heads and tails of a book about the role of technology in the creation of international crime when she was back, wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe, and wiping her damp hair with renewed energy.

"You don't mind if I use your laptop? I have to check my emails."

She did not answer readily, trying to read his face, but apparently failed.

"Please," she said. "I left it in my bedroom."

He followed her.

"You don't plan on leaving?" she finally asked gesturing towards a white-washed cupboard and her laptop, dangerously tossed on a holster, some change and a striped silk scarf.

"Why would I?" He shrugged dismissively. "To be perfectly honest Olivia, I wouldn't know where to go at this point in my life. Obviously, I can't go back to Iraq," he hesitated, "let's say for the sake of argument that I'd rather not be in Boston right now; but no, to answer your question, no, I don't plan to leave --any time soon anyway."

"Something I should know about?"

"Probably lots," he smiled, "but I won't tell you…"

Her left eyebrow rocketed and she pursed her mouth in disapproval.

"… today."

"Are you in any danger?" she asked, clasping her hands together before her, her arms extended.

"You're not going to let go, are you? You remember what you told me about MY file?"

"That there is no file…."

"Exactly."

She knew when to stop. She gave him a quick nod and sat on her bed her legs crossed.

"Ok. I can live with that."

He turned his back to her and switched on the laptop.

"Is there someone threatening you?"

"Livvie, please, drop it, 'kay?" he faced her, his voice harder.

"But you will tell me eventually so that I can protect you?"

"Yes, I will... eventually. Don't worry, I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself."

She smiled, Walter's recommendation in their hotel room eons ago lingering in the back of her mind, but her eyes remained somewhat troubled. She took a deep breath, mulling over a way of asking him for his help without making a complete fool of herself. On the other hand, he was Peter; there was not much that could surprise him.

"Peter, I've been willing to ask you. You know your way around computers, don't you?"

"Well, I'm not your typical computer wizard," he said, relieved she decided to change the subject, "but there's enough _geekiness_ in me to help you out. What's your problem?"

"I've been receiving emails lately."

"Ok. You're right, that's weird," he joked.

"Emails from John."

"Ok. Well, Olivia, I hate to break the news to you but apparently Walter's treatment took a toll on your…"

"It happened in several occasions."

"Did you ask yourself whether you needed a geek or a shrink to help you out?"

"Yes."

"Ok then, give me your passwords."

-o-

"That is so eighties," he said, jumping and catching the Frisbee in midair. "What we really need is a dog," he said in a loud voice, steam floating around his face.

He tugged at his scarf and crossed his arms on the Frisbee. She came closer, rubbing her hands, a black wool hat pulled low on her face reddened by the biting frost, her eyes a striking pale transparent blue. She gave him a bright smile.

"We need a dog?"

"Yes, a dog is exactly what you need to figure things out. He will be able to make a difference between your fantasies and reality."

"Or detect a ghost…"

"I see your understanding of the situation is improving by the minute."

"It is said that dogs are aware of…"

"Yes," he cut her with a smirk, "I'm pretty sure that a dog will chase Casper away, but still, I can't explain how these emails actually got into your mailbox. Technically, I guess that just about anyone at Massive Dynamic can mess with your box… or even your dear colleagues from the Bureau. Did you ask yourself why your dear friend Agent Francis didn't offer to help you when you went postal in your office?"

She shrugged and cast him an interrogative glance.

"Walter would have loved to pull a prank like this on you and tamper your private mailbox as well, except that I know that he wouldn't do anything to upset you."

"I agree."

"Do you know of enemies you might have made during your days with HLS or before joining the Bureau?"

"It depends of the time you've got to spare, it could take a while," she joked half-heartedly.

Her chin sank to her chest and she lost rapidly her smile, engulfed back in her reflections.

"Then you definitely need a dog," he said with a nudge on her arm. "Or if you want, I could stay over permanently…" he tried, "… or for a couple of weeks, a day…"

"It won't be necessary, but thanks anyway. I can totally borrow a dog. A friend of mine has a dog. Beth is an old friend, and she has a dog."

"A real dog?"

"What do you mean, a real dog?"

"I mean not one of those tiny indoors dogs."

"Oh, no, Sammie is the real deal. She's a strong bull terrier."

"That should do. How do we proceed? Does your friend live in you neighbourhood?"

"Beth? Yep. Let me call her, see if Sammie can spend the night."

"I have to insist on spending the first night with you two. You will need an independent scientific observer."

She grinned and dialled her friend. It will probably tax her patience to put up with two young mad dogs. If she was lucky, she might even find a way to get back to her former self-assured self and get rid of her fears, or at least set them aside for a while.

"Observer, it is," she said with a grin. "Beth? Liv. Yep. I'm finally going to make it to your place today. Is it too late to bring the kids their presents? Ok, then. I'll be right there. Oh Beth! You don't mind if a friend tags along do you?"

-o-

_what do you think??_


	6. Chapter 6

**FRINGE**

**Fourth Time is the Charm - part 6**

_No inFRINGEment intended. I'm just playing with the characters and I promise I will put them back in their box when I'm finished. _

Note: It's Christmas and not everything always goes as planned.

-o-

They had been riding back in silence from Beth's place and the car radio was playing some obnoxious Christmas carols medley. She was glad that she had taken Peter at his word. It had been a magical afternoon with Beth and her family and she was wondering why they were now estranged after years of casual friendship. She knew why already. That's what life does to people, we are not dreaming teenage girls any more, she thought.

"How does she manage to pull a stunt like this?" said Peter, out of the blue.

Olivia glanced towards him before giving her attention back to the road with the eerie feeling that somehow he knew what she was thinking. That was more than being in sync. But the road was icy and windy and the last thing she wanted was to be stranded in a snowy ditch with an exuberant dog and a sarcastic witty young man.

"What?"

"Dinner for numerous guests, the taking care of the kids, not to mention that she's charming and a successful lawyer and still have a life --and a dog?"

Her right eyebrow rocketed and she smiled.

"You're asking me? How on earth would I know? I'm thirty-ish," she trailed, "and I can barely take care of myself. My fridge is third world, I have virtually no friends, and now I practically live at the Bureau or in your father's lab. The way I see it, it's nowhere near to improving and with your help, I have no doubt that my life will eventually sink to uncharted levels of dysfunction."

"On the other hand, _I_ can take care of myself," he protested playfully. "I'm not the one who came all the way to Iraq to beg a dysfunctional adult for his assistance."

"Please, let's not bicker over that again Peter. I'm so tired."

"Yes, as I. Let's hope that Sammie will put some sense into you."

"What?" she said again. She sounded like a broken clock.

"That's the whole purpose of the dog, Dunham, to put things right that once went wrong and derive some perspective from the experiment. And probably to put you to the test, to confront your old demons, to face reality blah blah blah… you know the drill don't you?"

"You never really told me why I would need a dog in the first place --and you, for that matter."

"Well, let's put it that way. For half the population of occidental countries, a dog is not only a part of the family but a close friend and a confidante. I understand that you're too afraid to let me help you and I'm guessing that Sammie can pretty much fill that empty space in your heart that desperately needs a friend. So let Sammie be your surrogate friend, and I'll be watching over the two of you."

"Okay, sounds like a plan," she smiled, pulling over in front of her building. "For the time being, _you_ will have to walk Sammie though while I'm on the phone with Broyles. I have to report today before he sends in the cavalry."

"I can walk Sammie. I have to check on Walter anyway, make sure he's not turned our hotel room into the Bellagio or worse."

"Worse?" she smiled tilting her head. She let the dog out and Sammie shook herself on the sidewalk before sniffing her way down to the corner of the street. She slammed the door and pressed her key, the car bleeped and blinked.

"Liv, if you want my advice, and I know you most certainly don't, call in sick tomorrow. Without Walter that nanite stunt is in limbo and as far as I know he doesn't plan to return to the lab any time soon. We can take Sammie with us tomorrow and spend the day in the countryside."

"Call in sick? I don't think…"

"Dunham, it's holiday season, you don't have to work yourself to death. And last time I checked, today's Christmas, and there's nothing you can do about it."

She shoved her hand deep inside her coat pockets and smiled, swaying her weight from one foot to the other in the slush. "You're right. I'll… --I'll go make this call now."

"Okay," he smiled back pressing the speed dial.

"Walter? It's… yes, merry Christmas to you too Walter. I just wanted to… yeah, I drove Olivia safely back to her place last night…. Walter, don't even think of going there. She's a… I know you know. I just want you to understand that… no, nothing happened Walter. Listen, I was actually calling you to…"

She watched him crossed the road to the park, Sammie walking by his side and unlocked her apartment door. She went inside and switched on the light, tossed her keys onto the console by the door and her coat on an armchair. She checked her face in the mirror above the console. She did not look as weary as she thought. Peter might be right. All she needed was some company, and some time off.

"Merry Christmas Liv," said the voice in the shadows.

The reflection in the mirror was John's. She started shaking and dropped to the floor, unable to speak a word, hiding her head in her arms, her arms wrapped around her legs, while her mind was yelling for help.

-o-

The dog slipped by Peter and rushed inside. He slammed the door behind him.

"Liv? You there? Walter is okay, more than okay actually. I hope that you sorted things out with Broyles and that you're going to be able to spend some quality time with Sammie. She's a fantastic addition to our already so dysfunctional family. Liv?"

He took his coat off and threw it carelessly on the couch along with his scarf and gloves and turned back to the dog which was desperately squealing and wagging her tail beside a crumpled form on the floor.

"Olivia?"

He was kneeling by her side, holding her, stroking her hair. He pushed away strands of loose hair and managed to get a peek at her pale face and frowned. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, her lips colourless and she was mumbling softly. He embraced her and stood back on his feet, carrying her full weight on his arms. Sweeping her off her feet, he carried her to the bathroom and stepped inside the shower. He put her back on her feet, and holding her tight, he turned on the water.

They stayed standing in the stall for a long while, Peter hugging her and Olivia holding onto him for dear life. He was gently rocking her in the hope that the sprinkling tepid water and his presence will eventually soothe her.

-o-

"You feeling better? Now, can you tell me what happened?" he asked. He could not help thinking that the expression 'nervous wreck' had been invented just for her.

She was sitting on her bed, a white sponge bathrobe over her damped clothes, a towel on her hair and she was so pale that could see her veins pulsing through her translucent skin. He waited for a moment, knelt before her with the dog at his feet, not expecting her to say anything right away, simply stroking her hand. She finally locked her eyes on his and her mouth twitched.

"Peter…"

"Yes, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

"He was here."

"Who, John? John was here? When? When I was on the phone with Walter, that's what you're saying? Silly me, I should have known better that letting you go inside alone," he stood up and started pacing.

The dog immediately jumped and rushed to the front door.

"Peter, it is my home," she pleaded. "It's hard as it is with my father… and," she stopped, tears welling up in her eyes. Her chin sank to her chest and tears started pouring down on her cheeks.

"Liv, we've already gone over this postcard topic and as much as I don't want to sound insensitive, this is more serious that facing your child fears. Tell me everything."

"I will. But you've got to change first."

"What?"

"Peter you're soaked. You're going to be sick and of absolutely no use to me."

"No use, really? What do you mean exactly?" he teased her.

He was rewarding by her blushing.

"Well, I can see you feel better already," he joked, "the Bishop's touch, no doubt."

"Peter, I'm serious, put your clothes in the dryer already and we'll find you some clothes."

"There's no way I'm going to wear any of these fluffy bathrobes of yours."

"I was thinking that I put some clothes in the garage yesterday."

"You're kidding right? You want me to wear a dead man's clothes when he comes haunting you on a daily basis, is that what you're saying? 'Cause I discern a pattern here and it has nothing to do with your fringe science nonsense or Massive Dynamic. You're just trying to hit a new low aren't you? Let me rephrase this for you: are you insane woman?"

She smiled.

"Yes, you're probably right. So what do you prefer, pink or Laura Ashley's?"

-o-

"I assure you that if you do exactly what I've told you, nothing can go wrong," he said, slumping down on the couch beside her.

"Okay," she grinned.

She's almost back to her former self, he thought.

"You seem unsure somehow…" he grinned back, facing her.

"You're right, I am. You're absolutely certain about the plash of lime?"

"Totally. The only thing you might probably want to skip is the Tabasco dash. But I would strongly recommend against it."

He sat his drink on the coffee table.

"It was a fun evening after all," she said hesitantly.

"Yep… didn't turn that bad huh, except for the clothes part…"

"You don't like standard FBI material? I think you look great in gray…"

"Who doesn't? I'm not so fond of the inscription on the back. I probably never really pictured myself as standard material."

She smiled and stared at him. Peter finally broke the silence.

"I shall retrieve my clothes from your dryer now and if it is any consolation, everything is going to be back to the world as we know it. And after that, I will walk the dog and… you still want me to stay over, don't you? Because the only alternative for you would be to share my bathtub at the hotel and the last thing I want is to put some crazy ideas in Walter's mind."

"Yes," she bit her lower lip, "I wouldn't want that either not to mention that he's probably got enough of his own," she chuckled, "let me grab a sweater, I'm coming with you."

"You want to help me get dressed?"

She gave him a nudge and blushed. "Walk the dog?"

"Oh yes, absolutely. You do that. By the way, I never had the chance to ask, did you call Broyles to talk about our trip tomorrow?"

He stood up and held out a helping hand. She slowly shook her head, seemingly back to her broody mood.

"I can't…"

"You can't call him? I can't think of any reason why you…"

"I can't go on a trip with you."

"Wait a minute. Is it the _'go on a trip'_ part or the _'with you'_ part that you don't want?"

"I can't ask Broyles for some time off."

"Work's not the answer to your problems Liv. You need to take a break and as much as I never thought I was going to say anything remotely close to that notion anytime in my present life, I think you should consider going back in the tank. Let Walter help you."

"For a third time?"

"You know what they say. Third time is the charm."

-o-

_So? What say ya?_


	7. Chapter 7

**FRINGE**

**Fourth Time is the Charm - part 7**

_Fringe doesn't belong to me though it would be fun. I'm borrowing the characters and I promise I will put them back in their box when I'm finished. _

Note: some romantic leftovers before I get those two out of the house and back to the Pattern or whatnot?

-o-

When she woke up, it took her some time to process that she was safe and lying in her bed. No dead ex-boyfriend lurking in the shadows, no sweaty palms, no horrifying expectation. She had no recollection that she actually went to bed last night. She opened her eyes and remembered that Peter told her he was going to keep watch over her on the settee with Beth's dog. Lifting up on one elbow she peered to the living room where a faint bluish light was dancing on the walls.

"I thought that Walter was keeping you up but I was wrong obviously."

He turned to her. She was standing in the doorway, her hair dishevelled, in her blue tank top and plaid pyjamas and could not help but looking drop dead gorgeous. Maybe he could do something about those kinds of unwanted thoughts. Mixing pleasure and work was a recipe for disaster and Walter was a handful already, he did not need to get into more trouble. On the other hand, who was he kidding?

"How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough… May I?" she asked, gesturing towards the spot currently occupied by the sleeping bull terrier. She tucked her hair behind her ear and bit her lip. Why did she have to do this, he thought. Why was she in every respect the spitting image of his fantasy woman?

"Of course you may, scoot Sammie, scoot!"

She slumped on the couch next to him and turned her attention back to the television. He wished he could reach to her and stroke her cheekbone.

"Isn't turning the sound off kind of limiting the prospect of being actually frightened by these things?"

"You mean all the screaming and gimmicky music and muffled footsteps?" he chuckled.

"Yes, something like that I guess. I didn't picture you into a horror movie freak," she was frowning now.

_And what do you picture me into Liv?__ Obviously not testosterone material._

"You did not, did you? On the contrary I'm all in for urban legends and the return of the creature from the black lagoon. I'm barely catching up, we don't happen to get SciFi at the hotel. Wait a minute, why didn't you?"

Maybe he has been too prompt to dismiss her. Small talk was good.

"Well it has been already established that you are some kind of a genius yourself and…"

Here she was, trying to rationalize things again.

"And you simply don't see my genius genes expressing themselves here? Well, think of it this way, those films merely fulfil the basic needs of the average male. Formulaic plot, lack of romantic over-analysis, lots of brainless leggy brunettes…"

"… or blondes," she said her mouth twitching.

_Be careful what you ask for Liv, I'm only human._

"See. I'm glad you understand my point."

"Seriously Peter. How can I help? I know that you've been stuck with your father for the best part of the last months, and now not only you're stuck with me for Christmas but you've done all the cooking…"

"Well, don't forget I did the dishes too…"

"I don't, but geez, you've even managed to make Walter happy and to visit my boring friends."

_Whoever says __'geez' these days? You're a gem Olivia._

"And I got you a surrogate dog."

"Yes you did. So, how can I help, you obviously have a lot on your mind. I can be a shoulder too you know," she patted his thigh and turned to him expectantly.

He had to stop this flirting banter before it gets out of hand. That was bad enough he was sleeping on her couch without her trying to play the friend card and eventually ending questioning his ulterior motives. He had to put her back into bed. _Well, maybe not. _He closed his eyes, trying to get rid of inappropriate graphic images.

"I have no doubt you can Olivia, once you're through with your I-see-dead-people routine. For the time being, you're not ready to be anybody's shoulder."

"You're probably right, but still, is there anything I can do?"

_Would you stop that already?_

"It's almost four and you're obviously awake for a reason. Maybe if you could talk about it…" she insisted.

He had to make an articulate decision. She was not out of the woods and he was nothing near to strip his heart naked in front of her --yet.

"Would you watch the movie with me then?"

"Sure, what's it about?"

"You're kidding right?"

"Yes, I am. Just turn the volume up, you're spoiling all the fun."

-o-

It was déjà vu all over again. The sun, the smell of coffee, the rattle in the kitchen, except that she was actually lying on her couch, tucked inside a blanket with Beth's dog cuddling up next to her. She had nothing against snuggling, but her vivid memories of watching a giant snake horror flick with Peter and enjoying every minute of it did not entice her to get cosy with a dog. Oblivious of her state of mind, the dog trampled over her with enthusiastic energy. She sprang from the couch with Sammie on her wake.

Her house was empty. She found Peter's note on the kitchen table.

_Gotta check on W. Took yur car. x__o__x Peter_

Okay, that was the first sign she had to call Broyles and make amends. It was nine and she could not come up with any more excuses to postpone her call. She poured herself some coffee, popped two slices of bread in the toaster and dialled him. He picked up immediately and she found herself bracing against his predictable rebuff.

"Agent Dunham. I'm glad you eventually remember you belong to the Bureau. Your… colleague already made this phone call for you. Something about you being sick…"

"Peter Bishop called you?"

"He did. I'll see you in January Dunham. Take advantage of these few days to regroup. You'll need it."

"Thank you sir, but I'm… --I… I don't want to…"

"Don't thank me Dunham, thank Peter Bishop. And Dunham…"

"Yes sir?"

"Merry Christmas to you too."

-o-

_thank you for reading and to eveyone who sent me feedback!!!_


	8. Chapter 8

**FRINGE**

**F****ourth Time is the Charm - part 8**

_No in FRiNGEment intended.__ I'm just playing with the characters. Who wouldn't?_

Note: I know it's been a while and I apologize for the delay. I hope that you'll like it. Change of plan ;)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Olivia was in the shower when she heard her cell ring in the bedroom. What were the odds? She had been expecting her phone to ring for the last hour, checking every five minutes in case she had missed his call and precluding the possibility of calling him instead, longing to hearing his voice if only over the phone and eventually locking herself in procrastination. Trying to brace herself against her newfound discovery, she cleaned the kitchen, tidied her bedroom, vacuumed, read her emails, but it did not go away. She seemed to have suddenly grown a feeling that she had no control upon. The fact that Peter stayed over and helped her with subduing her fears had definitely clicked something irreversible inside her that she was unable to deny any longer. It didn't happen over night, she knew that it had been there for sometime though she refused to acknowledge it. She did not want to get involved with anyone, not right now, but deep down she was already more involved with the young Bishop that she had ever been with anyone else. This was happening so fast and feeling so right… and this terrified her.

She jumped out of the bathtub and knocked her big toe on the edge of the door and ultimately missed the call. She stared helplessly at the tiny screen and pressed the speed dial to call him back but the call didn't go through. She went back to the bathroom soaking the floor and shooed away Sammie who was happily jumping all around and making a mess of everything. She finally managed to get rid of the last trace of soap and shampoo, wrapped herself in a towel and wiped the mirror. She realized she was not afraid of ghosts any more and smiled at her smudged reflexion. Was it the dog therapy, she thought with a glance to the bull terrier seated on her jeans and waiting in the tremulant anticipation of her next move, or simply the fact that Peter was so easy to be around and so comforting that he had blotted out her bad memories? She placed her dirty clothes in the basket behind the door, dried her hair, retrieved her stained jeans from Sammie and a wool sweater from her chair and tried to call him back again but it went directly to his voice mail. She bit her lip and sat on the bed to put on her socks, Sammie still observing her every move. That was strange that Peter did not leave her a message. She checked again and sighed. This was getting ridiculous. She was a grown woman, not a teenager. She whistled softly and Sammie followed in her wake wagging her tail wildly and showing her enthusiasm with little yelps. She grabbed her coat and her hat and opened the door.

"Olivia!" Walter chirped in a very loud and cheerful voice. "I'm so happy you could make it!" he said hugging her forcefully before she had time to process his presence on her front porch.

"Walter, this is Olivia's apartment, she didn't make it per se. She lives here, it's only logical to find her, don't you think?" his son quipped.

She spotted immediately the suitcases on the top of the stairs and her car parked on the opposite side of the street. Sammie was out already, and barking her way to the park after a frightened American spaniel with renewed energy. Olivia managed to free herself from Walter's embrace and glanced awkwardly towards Peter. He nodded understandingly, putting on his best smile.

"Change of plan Liv. We have to talk."

"I'll be right back," she answered a bit too fast, avoiding eye contact, "make yourself comfortable Walter," she said hurrying away. "I have to walk the dog."

"We have a dog too, don't we Peter?" he crooned. "It's a Lab. Good old Brutus."

"Rufus Walter. And as I recall, he's been in dog's heaven for the past twenty years."

"He is?" Walter's face melted down and he watched sadly Sammie chasing the black white and tan spaniel in the distance. "May I join Olivia?"

"By all means Walter. But please, don't get lost. If you lose sight of Olivia, stay put, we'll come looking for you."

"Excellent," he said with a nod proceeding to the bottom of the slippery stairs with extra caution. "Thank you son, don't worry I will watch over agent Dunham for you."

Peter sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. He stayed a while in front of the building waiting for his father to catch up with Olivia. Only then, he carried the bags inside and with a last glance behind to their silhouettes against the snow, he closed the door behind him.

-o-

"I can't."

She pouted her mouth with a defiant glare to the Bishops and took a mug from the rack, threw in a tea bag and turned around to retrieve the kettle.

"Why's that, there's nothing that can stop you," Peter insisted. "Broyles said you weren't due back before next year. That's a lifetime after what you've been through. And I'm pretty sure you don't have any previous engagement."

Regardless of his insistent tone and obvious provocation, she did not budge in her resolve.

"Don't tell me you're planning to stay and get engulfed in your work again, that's just not healthy. You of all people could use a break. Not to mention that I can't picture anyone turning down a Bishop invitation."

She could hear a hint of laughter in his voice. If she did not look at him, she'll be all right.

"Everything will be perfect, I promise. Take a deep breath and say yes. Come on, there's nothing wrong with having some fun over the holidays!"

"We'll go surfing…" said Walter in an enticing voice, "and we'll have ice creams and go to the movies and eat popcorn… and, and… cotton candy."

Her mind was yelling to say yes and throw away her qualms and desires of normalcy.

"My thoughts exactly," smiled Peter.

It went unsuspected to Olivia since she was still staring at her kitchen wall.

"… and I hate to say it, but for this one time, I'd have to agree with Walter. So will you come with us, please, pretty please?"

She turned around and sipped at her tea, peering at them over the rim of her cup.

"No."

"No?" he shook his head and threw his arms in the air. "Why not? Five whole days of leisure and total rest at my friend's beach house? How can you resist that?"

She felt her opposition wearing thin. She could not think of anything best than spending the last days of the year with Peter and his father and the first of the next, for that matter. They were more of a family to her than her own, pretty dysfunctional as it was with her feelings for her surrogate brother oozing from every pore of her skin, but a family nonetheless. What the hell.

"We cannot take Sammie," she surrendered.

Peter's smile grew wider and he pointed his forefingers at her. "Okay, I sense we're making progress here."

Walter's smile was speaking volumes and he seemed on the verge of having one of his moments but it all came down to a few shuffles before he calmed down and returned his attention to Peter.

"There's no way I'm taking Beth's dog to Florida," she added.

"Now you're talking." Peter stroked his chin absently. "Let's say for the sake of argument that we go for your typical holiday walk in your park of choice with Sammie this morning. Plenty of time to build a few snowmen and have the snowball battle of the century and still get Sammie back in time to her owner. Our flight is at 2:40 pm so we don't have to go to Logan before, say… one thirty?"

"Our flight? You're saying you made reservations already?"

"I say I did what had to be done if we want to go vacationing in Florida for New Year's Eve," he grinned.

"I'll go packing then."

-o-

"I thought it was you," he said softly when he reached the end of the dock. "You don't mind me joining you?"

He was bringing glasses and a bottle of her favourite whiskey. She patted the damp disjointed floor beside her without turning her gaze away from the ocean. Her hair seemed almost white under the pale moonlight. She was wearing kakis and a blue and white striped jumper far too large for her and looking calm, and very different from her usual guarded self.

"Not at all, I was dreaming, I guess," she pointed a finger in the direction of the reflections from afar, "this is so sudden. I can hardly believe we were stuck in this blizzard only this morning. The evening air is so tepid here in comparison, that's certainly a drastic change…"

"Yup, it's like another world completely. Your usual?" he asked, pouring the amber drink.

She nodded with a sheepish smile. "I have to confess it feels like holidays, you were right Peter, I had no idea I needed the break so bad."

"Cheers," he said, raising his glass to the ocean before them, "always best to follow doctor's orders," he snipped, sipping on his glass.

"Even when you don't know anything about the said doctor?" she quipped with a side glance.

"You know pretty much everything that's relevant about me," he said, his body language showing exactly the opposite. "And with your inbred talent, you most certainly have guessed the rest already," he tried to joke.

"Not in so many details," she said very seriously.

He looked puzzled and frowned. Taking a deep breath, he averted her eyes for a brief moment.

"Moment of complete and honest truth? I have to tell you that I did something stupid a couple of weeks ago, kind of trying to reconnect with my past."

"Reconnect how?"

"You don't want to know."

"In this case, why did you bring the subject up, Peter? I guess we're talking of something that happened some time around my second psychedelic reunion with agent Scott," she said hesitantly. "I wondered why you were not there to argue with me and ultimately stop me. Then Astrid told me about your mysterious phone call. I know that you left the lab to meet… someone. And I noticed your bruised hand. It sort of adds up…"

"I see. Just when I thought I was being discreet," he chuckled uneasily.

"You were, in your own way, I think. Not according to DHS standards," she grinned.

"And what do you think? That I'm a dumb smart guy? That I love trouble?"

She gazed at him and mulled over an appropriate answer but did not seem to find one and shook her head. "I don't think anything. I hardly know you. I have no idea what you're up to Peter and you made it perfectly clear that you didn't want my help anyway."

She was silent for a few seconds, expecting that he will provide her with answers or at least that she will find something to say that won't compromise her stay in Florida.

"I guess you're entitled to your private life as long as it doesn't interfere with the job," she stated matter-of-factly.

She nibbled on her lower lip. It did not come out right. She wanted to offer her help again or Broyles' for that matter even though he already rejected her offer a long time ago. She was hoping that he will confide in her but he definitely did not seem to want to. It was a dead end.

"We'll see…" he finally said.

"What do you mean?"

"Now that they know I'm back in Boston, I can't guarantee that they won't come after me."

"They? Wise guys?"

"Sort of."

"I see. You sure you don't want me to help you with that…"

"Thanks but I can take care of myself."

"Obviously," she dropped her chin on her chest and swung her legs nervously over the water. "Peter, it's not my place to judge you or get in the way. But I've been working with you for the last months and I've seen that you're good to Walter despite what you say or think and that you indeed like what you do at the lab and… Well, what I really want to say is that I can have your back if you need me, no questions asked, you know you can trust me."

"Thanks Liv, but I'm good. And I can assure you there's pretty much nothing to know about my previous lives. I'd rather not go down memory lane with you if you don't mind."

"You want a clean slate, is it what you mean?"

"I mean I'm not ready for full disclosure."

"Okay, I can deal with that."

"Maybe we could meet half way," he said. "I'm sure you could humour me with the vicarious pleasure of your life of adventures and fighting crime but that would negate the purpose of our Floridian trip. What can you tell me about you? Come on I want all the juicy details!"

She pressed her lips together fighting a rush of unexpected self-consciousness and rocked slightly back and forth on the edge of the pier.

"Well, I took psych and criminology in College, eventually joined the Marine Corps, then the Bureau," she trailed.

"And you can count cards," he shrugged. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry I was just trying to..."

"I know."

She locked her eyes on his and stared at him for a while before turning her head back to the sea. They stayed there for a moment in silence, simply watching aquatic night birds fish and dark waters shimmer. Shaking the uncomfortable sensation that it was -in his book, turning into an unforeseen romantic moment instead of the buddy talk and easy banter he had anticipated, Peter spoke up at the precise same time she did. There was another awkward silence. It was going to be a long four days if they kept on tiptoeing around unspoken stories of their previous lives and their current relation or lack of it, he thought, glancing in her direction.

"Where is Walter?" she finally asked.

"In his bed, fast asleep," Peter smiled, obviously relieved.

"No Fibonacci nursery rhyme, no endless fidgeting with odd items, nothing? Just asleep? That sounds weird."

"Yes just asleep, I agree, it feels weird even to me. Fancy a refill?" he offered.

She nodded and cleared her throat. "To be honest, since you asked, it's kind of a dream come true," she rasped, in a very low tone, handing out her glass.

"Which part?" At this point, he thought that it would be best just to follow her drift, to stay on the safe side of their burgeoning friendship.

"Well, sailing would have been my ultimate dream when I was a teenager, but flying to the Keys, I figure it works for me too," she smiled, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "At this time of my life, I can't afford the luxury of being a castaway on a remote island anyway," she chuckled, "not with our current battle against big companies, the Pattern and whatnot."

"A castaway, like in lost at sea?"

She nodded with a smirk. "I'm a girl. A girl can have dreams, can't she?" she shrugged. "I grew up in Fayetteville in North Carolina, and as far as I can remember, I've always been attracted to the sea. My mum used to take me to the seaside to watch the boats on weekends and when I was older, I even worked two summers in a row at a marina in Wilmington."

He helped her up and they walked slowly back to the house.

"You did?"

"Back then I thought I'd eventually sail in a transatlantic single-handed yacht race, or at least own my own coaster."

"But it turned out you did neither?"

She gave him a gentle nudge. "Life, you know."

"Don't I know it," he nodded. "Speaking of life, I hope you don't mind sleeping downstairs on the couch. Mitch didn't tell me anything about the state of refurbishing his house was actually into."

"I don't mind. At least, I get a couch. Where are you going to sleep?"

"I think I spotted a hammock in the garage. I'll be fine. Anything but sleeping with Walter," he smiled.

She chuckled in the darkness and her shoulder brushed against his arm when they entered the house.

"And there's always the boat. That reminds me that we could go sailing tomorrow…"

"Why not? The weather seems fine, and we could listen to the forecast tomorrow morning just to be on the safe side."

"Fantastic! You need me to help you out with the couch?"

"I think I can manage, but thanks."

"Night Liv."

She looked up and realised she was expecting that he will kiss her good night but he turned around and left abruptly. She brushed her teeth, made her bed and for the first time in weeks, she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

-o-

She aimed and peered in every direction, her eyes narrow, walking cautiously. She couldn't see anything through the dense fog though and had to stop her progression.

She opened her eyes. She was in her bed and Walter's face was inches of hers, she could feel his breath on her.

"Hello Olivia."

She felt instantly awake and jumped away. She stood still besides the couch in her tank top and plaid pyjamas. It was cold in the room despite the live embers in the hearth. The main door was wide opened and a cool breeze was blowing inside the house from the sea. She shivered and went to close the door.

"Walter? What are you doing here?" she managed to whisper, her right eyebrow arched up to the root of her hair.

"I didn't mean to wake you but Peter is missing and, and, and… I checked outside, he's not there either and there's sea all around and… THIS must be an island," he said in a determined voice rising on his elbows trying to straighten up.

"How long…" she ran her hand on her hair and sighed. This was not happening. "How long have you been here Walter?" she pointed an accusing finger in his direction and crossed her arms tightly bracing herself against the cold. She stood with her back to the dying fire waiting for his answer.

"My question exactly agent Dunham!" said Walter who perched on the edge of the bed in front of her and stared at his wriggling toes. "I… I don't remember why I'm here… how WE got here," he added with a puppy look in her direction. "Do you think we've both been drugged?" he jerked frantically on the bed and frowned. "… abducted?" he asked with a suspicious glance around. "Why would they do that?" Now he was moaning and sounding desperate.

She slowly returned to reality and pondered how she was going to make him go back to the first floor and eventually back to sleep.

"Walter you're delusional again," Peter's voice startled them both. "Why am I not surprised? You couldn't leave Olivia alone could you?" He was in his boxer shorts, dishevelled and wrapped in a patchwork quilt, half awake and looking pissed. "Don't tell me that you were in her bed watching her sleep, Walter," he said dryly with an inquisitive stare.

She shrugged apologetically.

"Walter, I hate to break it to you, but you're not in Boston any more. I told you a thousand times that we're in Florida at my friend Mitch's beach house. And Olivia here has kindly agreed to come along with us on our New Year's Eve trip so that I wouldn't have to put up with your deranged behaviour on my own. You do remember that, don't you Walter?"

He slumped on the couch and tugged on the drifting blanket with frenzy, looking daggers at Walter.

"It's okay Peter," she said softly. "Don't get mad at him. It's no big deal."

"No it's not okay and yes it is a big deal! Can't we get a decent night's sleep for once Walter? Are you determined to driving us all insane? Don't you think that it's only normal to give Olivia some privacy?"

"Oh, oh…" a goggle-eyed Walter chanted, a huge grin spreading all over his face, "you wanted to be alone with her, err… Peter? I'm sorry I didn't mean to intrude on you two but I got scared."

"Walter…" Peter growled.

Olivia dashed between the two men and hushed Peter back on the couch with a soothing hand on his bare shoulder. "I'll take care of Walter. Peter, please, go back to sleep."

"I don't need to be taken care of agent Dunham, see," said the professor who was already hurrying up the stairs. "I'm glad you two finally got together. I posited you would since day one. Night Peter, night Olivia, I'll leave you in Peter's hands," he chuckled before slamming his bedroom door behind him.

"Sorry about that," Peter shook his head in despair.

"It's okay. It was rather funny actually."

"I'm glad you like it. Oh boy, I really could use a cigarette right now."

"Maybe we could find some in the house…"

"It was a figure of speech, I was never much of a smoker but bad habits die hard. Temperature is dropping, I say we should revive the fire. I can tell that you're not in the mood to sleep either, am I right?"

Her face turned crimson and she knelt in front of the fireplace to hide her embarrassment.


	9. Chapter 9

**FRINGE**

**F****ourth Time is the Charm - part 9**

_No in FRiNGEment intended.__ I'm just playing with the characters. Who wouldn't?_

Note: it's almost New Year's Eve but I'm not out of the woods yet. Sorry it takes me so long.

As usual your input is highly appreciated ;)

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"I can tell that you're not in the mood to sleep either, am I right?"

Olivia's face turned crimson and she knelt in front of the fireplace to hide her embarrassment.

"Let me make sure that Walter is okay and I'll be right back."

He jumped from the bed and ran upstairs. He was already pounding on Walter's door. She heard a muffled conversation and the door slammed shut behind him. Why would Peter go back to the house? She was pretty much certain that she did not cry out for any help nor raised her tone when she had found out that Walter was up and lurking. He might have needed a glass of water or an extra blanket. She had no idea where he actually made up his mind to sleep in the first place.

Before she had time to mull over his presence and rebuild a decent fire, Peter tumbled down the wooden staircase and dropped on the sofa like a stone eliciting protest rattles from the mattress springs of the opened bed and an intriguing stare from Olivia.

"I'm not sure Walter will go back to sleep but I'm sure he won't come out of his room and down to haunt you anytime soon," Peter smirked. He wrapped tightly the blanket around him in an attempt to cover his naked body and plaid boxer short. "I can't believe he had the nerves to get into your bed. I'm sorry Liv, I should have given it a second thought before leaving you in the house with him."

"Told you it was okay," she mumbled. "Calm down. It was no big deal. I was just… surprised," she smiled, turning her back to the fire.

"I'm glad I have been of some assistance. It's a good thing I can't sleep but what I do need at this point is some real time on my hands to write CliffsNotes for the taking care of Walter and hand the baby so to speak to someone else. I can't take any more of his crap."

"It's my fault entirely," she said sounding alarmed.

He lifted on his elbow and rested his head on his fist. Watching her play with the embers he gave her time to unravel her thoughts.

"You…" she finally said softly, "you were not supposed to be a… permanent solution. I can understand that you find it a bit hard to deal with him on a daily basis."

"More like 24/7 if you ask me."

She nodded and poked at the fire.

"We always go back to the gist of the problem: serious lack of space. In Boston I'm doomed to share a hotel room with him and in here, it's the same difference. I don't mean to beat a dead dog all the way back to life as we know it but I do need to be alone, I swear to God Liv, I'm falling apart at the seams."

She gnawed at her lower lips with an indecisive gaze in his general direction. "Oh… I can --I can sleep in the garage… or the boat if you want some privacy. Where were you anyway?"

It did not sound the way it should have, she thought. He waved at her dismissively.

"No need to bolt just yet Dunham, I was just venting. I'm aware that I'm stuck with the evil genius for a while and I usually have no problem with that. During the day it's kinda fun actually going back to the basics and helping him with twisting science to fit his vision. But at night, I could do without the…"

"Yes, I know. And I promise you that I will look into that first thing as soon we get back to Boston."

She gave him her best attempt at a smile and turned around to watch the fire. Thoughts of grilling wieners and marshmallows popped in her head and she discovered she was hungry.

"But for now let me take care of you. So… did you find anything to drink yet? I'm really really thirsty."

"Yup." She clasped her hands before her and leaned towards him a little. "I found a Bushmills 21 year single malt. Your friend is quite the expert. I was under the impression that these bottles were a limited thing…"

"You can count on Mitch to get the good stuff," he winked jumping from the bed to the kitchen. "I'll get the glasses. No ice right?"

"Peter? I have to eat something. I'm still a bit tipsy already from our drinks on the pier."

"My thought exactly. My last meal at the airport seems like eons ago. I have to apologize for being such a poor host. Let me make it up to you by fixing you a sandwich."

-o-

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Peter woke up, his eyelids fluttered. He could not open his eyes, his head was pounding. He could not believe he was so badly hangovered. The taste of whiskey was still potent in his mouth and rather disgusting to be honest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Walter, would you stop? I have a massive headache without you summoning me for breakfast with your usual tricks."

"Sorry Peter. I was not aware I was disturbing you…"

"Walter?" Peter opened his eyes and winced when the room swayed in front of him. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. I promise you Peter, I did not touch anything."

"Stop acting like a lunatic please. Obviously what I meant was: why are you here?"

Walter looked flabbergasted. He titled his head.

"Peter? YOU took ME don't you remember that at least? Probably you should quit drinking," he whined. "You told me we were going to have a fun vacation in Florida with agent Dunham. So much for Florida if my day has to start without any breakfast on New Year's Eve no less. I would likely go for oatmeal and…"

"Walter, stop rambling already. Why are you in my bed?"

"Technically this bed is not yours, it is agent Dunham's."

"Walter!" Peter groaned. He pushed away the blankets and stood up, wrapping hastily himself in a sheet. "What happened? Where is Olivia? When did you get downstairs? Why did you sleep in her bed?"

"Calm down son. You seem to be the one who slept in her bed and I'm not asking why," said Walter matter-of-factly before turning tail and scurrying to the kitchen. "I'm afraid I can't help you. As much as I'd like to bounce ideas off you this morning, I have no answers. No answers at all. You don't happen to know if we have any milk, do you. We should have taken Gene along…"

Peter knew when it was best to drop it. He put milk, cereals, coffee on the counter and went to the garage to retrieve a change of clothes. Olivia was not in the hammock either. A quick glance to the pier showed no sign of her but their rental car was missing. So were his memories of the night before.

"Peter? Son, are you here?"

"Yes Walter. Here, in the garage."

Walter was beaming and holding to a pink post-it for dear life. "She left a note. She says she is going to find us some menus for us to order in tonight. Can you think of a greatest idea? I'd like to have some…"

"You can have anything you want Walter. Now I will have a shower while you try not to burn down the house when boiling eggs."

-o-

"Allo?" said a hesitant and raucous male voice.

"Charlie… Olivia," she said.

She combed her hair with her fingers and stuck a loose strand behind her left ear. She tucked on her wool jacket then absently bit her thumb, pressing her cell phone to her ear. The ocean was calm and grey. She was parked on the seafront and sat on the hood of her rental SUV.

"Liv? What… what time is it? Something wrong?"

He paused and stayed quiet for a brief instant and she heard him shuffling inside his bed and pushing the sheets away. He breathed heavily. She could picture him rubbing his face to take the fogginess away.

" –you're seeing John again?"

"Err… I woke you up didn't I? I'm sorry, I forgot you were in LA."

"Don't bother. One has got to get up anyway, it's almost time to get back to work," said Charlie.

He checked his watch. 3:42 am.

"Sort of… Shoot, I'm listening."

"I am in Florida."

"Oh… you are? Good for you, it was about time that you leave Boston and take a vacation. I'm glad you finally decided to follow my advice. Listen, I'm almost done here, I could arrange to stop by and celebrate the New Year with you."

"I'm with Walter..."

"I see."

She sighed. "… and Peter."

"Okay. And is it good or bad?" he asked, absorbing the fact that she had failed at accepting his offer.

"I don't… I, --I have no idea Charlie. I feel that I keep making the same mistake over and over again."

"Mixing the job with your personal life?" he asked bluntly.

Charlie Francis used to be a NYPD Detective in another life time. He could sense the variations in a voice even on the phone and detect when it was important or if it was important and find an angle to work with. And this morning, the only angle he was discovering was that he was too late.

He chose to give her some space, some time to recover from her loss and properly grieve and he felt he had been taken advantage of. He was wrong obviously to think he could be more than a shoulder. Or maybe he could have been, given that Peter was not in the picture. But he was, and he had been all along, since day one when she went to bring him back from Iraq to Sainte Claire. Before John was a dead traitor, these two had forged a bond of an incredible strength without even noticing it.

Astrid was right. But to her credit, she was around the Bishops more than he was. And she liked Peter. He was easy to talk to, funny, not an agent.

"Yes, that," she whispered.

"Talk to me, get it out of your system." I can take it, he thought. "I'm not going anywhere."

"We are at his friend's house, Peter's friend, in the Keys."

"Nice."

"Yup. We flew over here last night."

"And the sky is falling already?"

"No… Maybe… I don't know, I guess I'm having a hard time figuring that out. And you're right. I've been seeing John again. A lot. That's part of the reason why I'm in Florida. Peter tried to help me in Boston, we even got a dog at some point… I'm not making any sense am I?"

"No you're not Liv. Listen, why don't you breathe and tell me what's really bothering you?"

"I don't want to fall for any guy Charlie, I'm not ready."

"You sound like it's a bit too late already if you ask me."

"I know. Who am I kidding right?" She was pacing in front of the car now. "I'm just trying to fool myself. Listen, we had a few drinks yesterday."

"Okay," he trailed.

"And… I fell asleep. And when I woke up, I was cuddled up in his arms, nuzzling against his chest. You're a guy's guy. What do you think?"

"That you were drunk," said Charlie in an even tone. "And sex and alcohol often…"

"We didn't… I mean, I haven't… I don't…"

"Okay, no sweat, I get it. You fell asleep period and you left before he noticed you spent the night with?"

"Yup, drove off. I had to stop for a coffee. If I'm given a breath test now I swear to God Charlie I will spend the rest of my life in jail," she chuckled with embarrassment. "Charlie you still there?"

"Yes. Well. No harm done. As far as he's concerned, you two had a few buddy drinks."

"Except that he's in my bed."

"Yes except that. But you're not, are you? So stop worrying yourself sick and think. What does it say about this so-called doomed romance?"

"That there's none?" she asked cautiously. "You're right. I'm overreacting. He doesn't have to know."

"Liv it's none of my business but you came to me so now please hear me out. You probably should start asking yourself the right questions if you want to get some valid answers. Unless you're looking for another..."

"Debacle?"

"So you said. Peter won't be around forever. Well my proposition stands Liv. If you want me to fly to Florida tomorrow, I'd be happy to oblige."

"Go back to sleep Charlie. I'm glad we could talk. And Charlie, thank you."

"My pleasure."

Charlie watched the screen of his phone going dark and tossed the phone on his bed. He placed his hands behind his head, crossed his legs and stared at the ceiling. It was going to be a long day.

-o-


	10. Chapter 10

**F****ourth Time is the Charm - part 10**

_No in FRiNGEment intended._

Note: _sorry it took me so long to update! I had to change my plans since everything I was about to write eventually happened in the show… I'm not sure where I'm heading now but I hope you'll enjoy this part, --I have to warn you it's mostly dialogues and it's very, very short.  
_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Astrid waved at her friend with a pointed finger at her phone and made a guilty face. "I really must answer that, sorry." She left the room and the cheering crowd and picked up.

"Hello? Who's this?" said a concerned male voice.

Astrid checked her phone again. She read _Peter cell calling_ and frowned. "Walter? Is that you?"

"Of course it is! I am Walter Bishop. Whom I am speaking to?"

"This is Astrid, Walter, Astrid Farnsworth. Certainly you must know that, you're the one who's calling. Is there something wrong? Where is Peter? What are you doing? Why are you calling me?"

"Listen to you, you're a chatterbox!"

"Seriously Walter, why did you call me?"

You could count on Walter to come up with the most unexpected conversation.

"Well, I meant to celebrate the New Year with you… miss."

"But it's not midnight yet," she smiled. "Does Peter know you've got his phone? Where are you?"

"I am in Florida. I'm… I'm walking on the beach right now. I can see the house from here." Walter turned around, extended his arm in the direction of a small light and squinted.

"Florida, you're in Florida? What house? Walter, you sure you okay?"

Astrid locked herself inside the next bedroom and dropped on the bed.

"Of course I am, I'm not at all the deluded man you think I am Astroid. Peter and I flew from Boston to Miami yesterday. He seems to have friends all over the world this one. And his friend from Florida lets us have his beach house for the holidays."

"And Peter lets you burrow his phone? Please put him through, let me check with him."

"It is going to be a bit of a problem. But I can fetch him for you… --in a moment," he sighed heavily.

"Peter is not with you? What is… what have you done Walter?" Astrid asked again, her voice raising in alarm.

Walter Bishop chuckled and a wide grin lit his parched face. "No need to be concerned, miss! I only gave them a gentle nudge. You must know that it is not anything that they wouldn't have done eventually. Well, I guess…" he trailed, his brow furrowed.

"They? Who's they Walter?"

"But Peter and agent Dunham, of course!"

"Olivia is here with you?"

"Yes, yes, she is! And John Scott is with her too."

"Oh…"

"But I have it all under control! Peter ordered in. We had foie gras and Champagne and oysters. And lobster with endive and Roquefort salad. I shall leave you now. I have to get the stracciatella gelato out of the freezer. Happy New Year, Asterisk."

"No, no, Walter, wait. What have you done exactly?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you, did I?"

"No you did not. Please, don't hang up on me Walter just yet. Could you explain?"

"That is very simple indeed. They left me in charge of decorating the house this afternoon while they were out sailing."

Astrid smiled at the thought of Peter and Olivia on vacation together and seemingly having a good time.

"What could you have possibly done then?" she said, feeling already more relaxed.

"I simply put them into a hypnagogic state."

"What? Don't tell me you used the light thingy?"

"You're right miss! I posited that it would be simpler than to use hypnosis, since they would have been probably unwilling to try, so I arranged for some special light decorations and they are currently dancing and laughing and smooching and other things I hope. I thought it was best to give them some privacy. And then you called me."

"I didn't call you Walter, you did, and I'm glad you did. You've got to stop that experiment as soon as possible."

"But it's not an experiment. It's what's meant to be!" he protested.

"You're going to release them from that… anthypnic state or whatever you call it and, Walter, hear me out that's the most important part…"

"Yes."

"Walter, don't sulk please. Listen to me. Walter?"

"Yes."

"Okay, listen carefully. They cannot know what you did. Under no circumstances, ever. You've got to make sure they won't remember what happened between them either. You understand?"

"I'm not stupid. Of course I understand miss! I'm only hoping they did not fall out of the trance… yet. That was sort of my plan you see, should be presented with a fait accompli…"

"Oh my god! Run Walter, run!!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Fo****urth Time is the Charm - Conclusion**

_No in FRiNGEment intended. _

_Note: __ This is the last chapter of this early Xmas story which almost turned into an Easter present!! R&R :)  
_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Here you go," said Peter after placing her luggage in the doorway along with her laptop and a colourful plastic bag full of presents and souvenirs. "You're absolutely sure you don't want me to stay over tonight?"

They had just flown back from Florida and Walter was waiting in a cab in front of her building. Peter gave a quick glance down the stairs and waved at him. Walter grinned wildly; then he winked ostensibly twice and made a face before he turned back to sternly watching the street through the windshield in front of him.

"I'm sure that Walter wouldn't mind," he sighed in her ear. "I could settle him at the hotel and come back later."

She leaned on the door and shrugged. "No, I'll be okay. I promise. You don't have to worry," she said with a yawn. "I can't figure out why I'm so tired. We had quite an uneventful and calm New Year's Eve not to mention that I practically slept all the way back to Boston. I guess I'll have a shower and go to bed." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and smiled. "You can go now. See you at the lab tomorrow."

"Okay," he hesitated. His eyes lingered on her face one second too long. He brushed her arm with his hand and finally kissed her on the cheek. "Happy New Year Olivia. That was nice," he said softly.

"Yes it was. Happy New Year Peter."

She stepped away from him, trying to avoid another awkward contact and, with a last smile, closed the door briskly before he had time to add anything else. She leaned against it for a moment, her fingers stroking her cheek and mouth absently; finally, she put a hand through her hair, took a deep breath, and jolted away from the door albeit reluctantly.

She might as well do what she had just told Peter and get some rest. Maybe that will make go away the funny feeling that something was suddenly very different. That special something she couldn't quite place which had been bothering her for hours now and she had felt odd about since last night. She could not put her finger on any specific reason why, she simply knew.

And yet, they did nothing fancy, three friends celebrating the New Year, or rather a father and a son celebrating with a friend. They had dinner, a few drinks, played chess, light some sparklers and fireworks on the beach and went straight to bed.

This morning, she didn't wake up in Peter's arms or staring at Walter. And during all the time they were together down in Florida, she had kept John at bay and silent.

She shrugged away her unease again, and took her suitcase to her bedroom. She managed to go through her usual routine without mulling over the weird notion that something has derailed on the way.

She emptied the suitcase, put away her dirty laundry, took a shower, she even went through every agonizing step that was supposed to lead her to transforming into a well groomed woman, face mask, peeling, bikini line, pedicure, nail polish, the whole nine yard.

Only the feeling did not subside.

Maybe it was the fact that she was back to her apartment. For the first time in weeks, she was alone and not afraid of dealing with John being around or confronting his memories with hers.

She dropped on her bed, and spotted the gift bag she had discarded earlier against her suitcase. She tossed its content on the blanket. There were gifts from Walter, two bags of blue cotton candy and a glass dome with a hat floating in glittery water, supposedly a Florida snowman. She shook it gently and sat it on her bedside table. Peter had came up with one _I went to Florida and all I got was this lousy _5Xlarge t-shirt and a book, a mint first edition of "I Want to Believe" by FBI legend Fox Mulder. She put the t-shirt on and flipped the book, thumbing through the chapters; in most of Mulder's works, the laws of physics rarely seemed to apply. Aliens and paranormal phenomena, that shall be a welcome change, she chuckled. This book was supposed to be out of print, proving that Peter had some good connections with underground booksellers. She braided her hair, put her favourite wool socks and her glasses on, lied down and began to read.

-o-

The elevator rang and the door slid open. Peter stepped out into the lobby and went directly to their room. While the door shut with a whoosh behind them and the elevator went down, Walter scurried away in the opposite direction, mumbling numbers.

"Walter, could you stop dawdling please," Peter said without a look behind, "I'm tired, all I want is to get some sleep ASAP. Don't tell me you left your bag in the elevator!"

Walter gave his son a rueful smile and shrugged apologetically. "Oops, I'm sorry, I think it's gone," he said. His voice wavered and he pointed a finger in the air before shaking his head in fake despair.

"What do you mean, gone? You left it in the elevator, right?"

"I-I'm not sure, I can't remember."

"Walter…" Peter groaned. He swiped his plastic card past the lock, pushed the door open and hurled his bag inside. "Come on in. And don't even think of ordering in. We already stopped twice and changed cabs because of your pressing need of raspberry puffs and clam frappé. Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."

Peter pushed Walter inside the suite forcibly and slammed the door.

That was not happening.

Walter probably stuffed confidential reports in his suitcase and now it was lost in the trunk of a Boston cab. He jogged down the stairs and immediately went to the elevator to check the cabin. It was empty.

"Of course it is," he said between his teeth.

"This must be yours," says a female voice in his back.

Peter turned over and looked at the stunning brunette who was facing him. This trip was turning into a cliché of a bad film noir. He should have stayed with Olivia instead of trying to keep up with Walter's idiosyncrasies of the day. So much for a quiet New Year's Day. The brunette was handing him Walter's suitcase.

"Thank you. My father's actually," he said, plastering an apologetic smile on his face. "He accidently left it in the elevator."

"Try the parking lot," she chuckled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you had to drag that thing all the way to the hotel? I'm really sorry."

"No harm done. I was going to leave it at the desk anyway. This is far more pleasant," she gave him a bright smile and an appreciative look.

Six months ago, Peter would have played along. _Who am I kidding, last week, I would have_. But something recently shifted in his relationship with Olivia Dunham, something he was willing to explore further even if he knew it was probably a mistake from the very start. Suddenly, he was not feeling single as much as monogamous. He smiled back and took the suitcase from her, carefully avoiding contact.

"If you're with your father I'm guessing you're not in Boston on a business trip," she trailed with another enticing smile. She pouted her mouth, intrigued by his body language and apparently inner turmoil.

"No, we-we're planning to move over here. He's…" he patted his head with his forefinger, "you know," he said with a shrug.

"Oh, I see, Alzheimer?"

"He suffers mild cognitive impairment, we're not sure yet. Well, thank you again for the bag. If you'll excuse me, I have to go back to our room. My father cannot be left alone…"

"Oh sorry, I'm keeping you. Well. Good night then."

He had no idea what he was doing. All he knew was that he had to question Walter right this minute. Like a bolt from the blue, this seemingly trivial and perfectly harmless conversation had triggered a string of very graphic images of Olivia that did not belong in his head. He punched the call button several times and rushed inside the cabin with a deep crease on his forehead. He became more and more restless as the elevator was taking ages to go up to their floor.

"Walter!" he shouted, barging into the room, "you'd better have answers to this, and right now! Walter? For god's sake, you're not in the closet again are you?"

-o-

Olivia put down the book and got up. This book was proving to be far more interesting than she would have thought. She never personally met agent Mulder but she knew people who knew people who met him once. And he seemed to have left quite an impression. She was thirsty, she was hungry and she was beginning to have second thoughts about Peter staying over. She could have used some company. She could not wait to discuss some views of Scully's work with Walter, -- and Peter obviously. That Tooms guy, that was another aspect of their progeria case, bordering on vampirism, well if you stretch, she chuckled, walking to the kitchen in the semi-darkness of the quiet apartment with the book in her hand. She opened the fridge, bent over in the gloomy light, indecisive at the sight of a very old mango, a pack of spoilt ham and a bottle of tequila. In the end, she retrieved the New Year's Eve leftovers Walter had packed for her and sat on a stool at the counter.

She unwrapped the cake and began to pick at the cream cheese frosting, mini chocolate chips and confectionary confetti sprinkles.

And froze.

It was all coming back. Graphic images that did not fit in, images of Peter feeding her cotton candy, licking pink vanilla butter cream from her breast, nibbling at her ear, kissing her. They were dancing and his hands were running against her naked back and shoulders, she was unbuttoning his shirt and taking gentle bites at his chin and chest.

She pressed her eyes closed and breathed, slapping violently the book shut on the counter.

If it was a fantasy, it was very vivid. If it was only a dream, she was very much awake. She knew that she was mildly attracted to Peter. Clearly, mildly was probably an understatement but she had no intention to go there. Not after Lucas and John. Third time is the charm they say, she thought. They were wrong then. John was the third she really got attached to. She didn't even want to go back to remember her first love in North Carolina that summer when she worked at the marina.

No way. And relationships and work don't ever work, ever.

But she could not stop unravelling new reels of her evening in Florida with Peter at his friend Mitch's beach house. A flock of unwanted butterflies gathered and her belly and thighs suddenly responded to unwanted stimuli. She moaned softly, her eyes closed.

No way. Whatever was causing these hallucinations, it had to stop. She could not imagine herself facing Peter at the lab tomorrow morning with this kind of delusions playing with her mind and senses. She took another deep breath and locked her eyes on the 2007 calendar she never bothered to take away from the wall. She focused on palm trees, sand beaches and the deep blue sea.

They were swimming. Skinny-dipping to be more accurate. Peter had a beauty spot on… Oh my god…

There was something else that she remembered now and quite clearly. That was Walter fiddling with red and green Christmas lights. She jumped from the stool, and ran for her phone.

She had to call Walter. And eventually deal with Peter while she was at it. She bit her lower lip and dialled the hotel room.

-o-

The phone rang and Walter picked it up. He pressed the phone to his ear, listened carefully without saying a word. He was ready to hang up when he heard a voice. "Walter, is that you? This is Olivia."

"Agent Dunham?"

"Yes, it's me. Listen Walter, we got to talk."

"Happy New Year agent Dunham! Peter is not here. He lost his suitcase."

"He lost…," she flinched, "…well, never mind. I don't want to talk to Peter, I want to talk to you."

"I-I'm rather busy at the moment agent Dunham, you might have to call me later."

"Walter, you cannot possibly be busy. You're just back from a vacation in Florida."

"I am? Oh yes! You're right, we went to Florida. You should have come with us agent Dunham."

"That's exactly why I'm calling Walter. I was over there with you and Peter. But I don't seem to remember all of it. Would you care to explain that to me, by any chance?"

"I am afraid I don't understand…"

"I'm pretty sure that you understand perfectly Walter. From day one you wanted me and Peter to hook up. So you made the decision for us. But oddly, I don't seem to be able to remember what you did and unfortunately, what I did. And I'm guessing that Peter doesn't either. Maybe it'll be easier to have this conversation with Peter after all. Unless you're willing to tell me about the Christmas lights?"

"Oh, you mean the lights?"

"Walter, did you experiment on Peter and me?"

"Of course I did not! I was merely showing you the way. But Miss… my assistant advised me against it."

"Astrid knows about this?"

"No, she absolutely does not!"

"Walter, we really have to talk. I'm coming over."

"That is not necessary, agent Dunham, I can perfectly explain. Agent Dunham? Olivia?"

Walter gave a sheepish look at the handset and hung up. He started pacing with raging anxiety. She knew.

He had tried to tell Asteroid. Almost anything was likely to trigger their buried memories, a smell, a conversation, an image, anything. If Asteroid had not tampered his initial experiment by introducing ethics and guilt, he was five hundred percent positive that Peter and this female agent would have probably yielded more than eagerly to his plan. They were good-looking, with reasonably satisfying functioning brains, about the same age and already attracted to each other. He merely pushed them in the right direction. Deep down, he was still not convinced that he had not done the right thing all along.

Nevertheless, he had to find Peter and confess before agent Dunham had the chance to talk to him.

Time was of the essence. It was not enough to stand by and wring his hands –he had to take action. He rushed outside, went to the elevator, pressed the call button and waited. When the elevator reached the floor, the door switched open and Walter came in. He was going to press the ground level button but there was no 0 or G or any star on the control panel. It looked like a fake elevator control panel used to reduce costs in film-making. Walter dithered. The door closed and the lights went out. Walter let out a gasp of anguish, extended his arms, and began to spin around.

-o-

"Walter?" Peter opened the closet but Dr. Bishop was not crumpled down inside. He spun on his heels and turned around to his father's bedroom. "Walter?" He switched on every single light, searched under the bed, behind the armchairs and couch, in the bathtub, back to the closet. Walter was not in the suite. Or if he finally succeeded in achieving his latest experiment, he had turned into the invisible man.

Peter cursed between his teeth. He kicked into the dresser in frustration and only achieved to hurting his foot. He cursed again and dropped on the couch, pain darting up to his knee. Clenching his fists, he called his father again, resisting the impulse of throwing a blow to the coffee table and ending hurting his hand as well. He dashed from the couch. He flipped the door open violently and peeked in the lobby. His head started to throb. It was the first time that Walter strayed away from the hotel suite.

But why now? It was not the first time that Peter was angry with him and a bit vocal about their disagreement. That was not their first squabble over a trivial event and probably not the last.

He left the suite and shut the door behind him, trotted to both ends of the lobby, prodding each door on his way. Walter might have used the stairs or the elevator to go to the upper levels or they would have come across each other when he was with this woman at street level. On the other hand, if Walter had put his mind to finding his way out, it was much too late to catch up with him.

Peter rushed to the stairs and checked every level on his way to the roof. When he finally came up to the roof top, he was panting and sweaty and far more irritated than he thought possible. He scanned the perimeter, went around the technical booth, checked every centimetre to no avail. He leaned over the railing and looked down. No shattered body.

That only meant that Walter was really gone. It was not one of his usual tricks. _Whatever he's done to us yesterday, he must feel really bad about it._ But Walter gaining a moral compass that was totally uncanny.

He had to inform Olivia. He dialled her cell, but she did not pick up and he went to his voice mail. She might be asleep, he thought, having qualms about waking her. The heck with sleep. Walter was gone and it was a real emergency. He called her home. The line was busy. At last she was home or her phone was disconnected or else.

He jogged back downstairs, and not bothering to check for Walter again all the way down, he went directly back to his room and tried to call her again. She was definitely not answering. He tried her cell and this time went directly to her voice mail. There was nothing he could do for Walter now but he had to check if Olivia was all right. He left the room and rushed down the stairs to his car.

-o-

That was not in her blood to defer.

She hung up, put on her Swedish clogs, a knitted jacket over her oversized t-shirt, a wool scarf and a beanie, swooped her keys and jogged down the stairs to her car.

All the way to the hotel, she tried to organize her thoughts while carefully keeping at bay flashes of her and Peter getting way too cosy the day before.

No wonder she was so tired. She probably barely slept two or three hours at best. With the new understanding of the dark circles under Peter's eyes, she felt the tension building up in her neck and shoulders and forced herself to concentrate on the road. They almost certainly lost several hours of their lives that they will never have back.

It was not enough to have John's memories in her head, now she was not even entitled to form her own. Her memory failing her again, that was simply killing her.

She hit the wheel in frustration and put her foot down. She parked in front of the hotel and killed the ignition. She gathered all the strength she had left, her hands clenched on the steering wheel, in a desperate effort to stay awake. Eventually, she opened the door and walked to the entrance door with a firm step. The temperature had dropped drastically and she almost ran the last ten yards, her chin to her chest and her arms folded against the freezing wind.

She pushed the door open without looking up and bumped into someone who was on his way out. "Excuse me," she said, losing her balance and reaching out to him reflexively. "Peter? Did you find your suitcase?"

"Liv? What are you doing here?"

Now he was staring with concern and she blushed. In a poor attempt at hiding her embarrassment, she took off her beanie and combed her hair with her hand. Suddenly, her flamboyant red nail polish didn't seem like such a great idea.

"I have to see Walter. I just called him. Do you mind if I go upstairs and talk to him, --in private?"

"Oh," he said, moving away from the door and dragging her along by the elbow. "So you know, don't you?"

She nodded and her mouth twitched a little. She had not envisioned a conversation with Peter on that particular sensitive topic tonight. She felt exhausted and cheated upon and the last thing she needed was to pick a fight with Peter just to give vent to her anger.

"I was on my way to see you," he said flatly.

"Why?"

"To make sure you're not mad at me. I wanted you to know that I had nothing to do with that… scheme."

"I'm aware it was Walter's doing," she smiled.

"He has not been doing everything to drive us apart," he chuckled. "Sorry, that was out of line."

"Don't apologize. The whole thing is simply out of line."

"Not to mention weird. Do you remember anything?"

She went beet red and did her best to look him in the eyes. "Enough," she sighed. "That was… inventive," she smiled, biting her lips and fighting back new flashes.

"Really? You remember more than I do," he lied with a shrug, his eyes suddenly brighter.

"Especially the part with the chocolate sauce…"

"Oh, I see, I was hoping…"

"Don't bother, I'll live. But I have to make sure that Walter understands he cannot play that kind of tricks on me, -- well, on both of us. I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions," she added, flushing profusely again.

"I'm sure you can," said Peter. He leaned towards her. " Do you wanna help me out here, please?"

"Hey you," said a woman in her back.

Olivia turned around and faced a tall brunette in her mid twenties.

"I thought that your father could not be left alone?" she stated.

"I was helping my sister with her car," Peter offered.

"Oh, I see, I never would have guessed you two were related. Nice t-shirt," she said with a condescending glance at Olivia's outfit.

"It's a present from my brother," prompted Olivia.

"How lovely! Well, I wouldn't want to keep you away from your _Dad_, then. Good night again."

More appalled than she was ready to admit, Olivia watched her walk away across the hall. The brunette pressed the call button to the elevator, gave them a last disapproving stare, and turned her attention back to the elevator.

"See," he whispered in her ear, "nobody buys that brother-sister crap."

She chuckled softly, leaning towards him, and tapping his chest with an accusing finger. "She's mad at you."

"I haven't done anything to her!" he protested, closing the distance between them.

"Obviously," she grinned and put her hand on his chest. She looked toward him, wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips. "A penny for your thoughts…" she finally said softly in a rasping voice.

He placed his hand on hers and tilted his head. "I have a better idea," he sighed against her mouth.

Oblivious of the stranger waiting for her lift, her eyes went wide. She placed carefully her other hand on his arm and looked up. She parted her lips and finally stretched out her arms, standing on tiptoe. She could smell liquorice in his breath and the scent of his Cologne on his chin. Her hand was stroking his hair and the nape of his neck.

On the other end of the hall, the elevator door slid open and Walter sprang out from the cabin, eliciting a high-pitched howl from the brunette he bumped into. They turned to the sound of the clash. Olivia huddled up to Peter in a relax manner and he naturally put his arm around her shoulders. Walter spotted them immediately and darted in their direction.

"Peter, agent Dunham, I can explain!" he said immediately. He stopped in his tracks, his willingness to do good cut short. "Agent Dunham, do you know that you're not properly dressed?"

"Yes, I guess I'm not. What was I thinking," she grinned.

Peter squeezed her shoulder with a questioning look. She shrugged slightly and nodded. Peter turned back to Walter. "Olivia came over to look for the suitcase Walter."

"You misplaced your suitcase Olivia?" said Walter in a very I-told-you-so tone.

"And I was telling her that we found it already," Peter continued.

"Oh… Oh! That is great news! We-we did?"

"Where were you Walter?"

"I was worried. I could not find you, son. And then the lift… acted up. But here you are! Were you with agent Dunham?" he asked with a sly smile. Peter shot him a warning stare and Walter looked away sheepishly. "I'm afraid I scared that woman Peter," he motioned to the elevator. "I'd better go to bed now."

"You do that Walter. And behave yourself okay?"

"Good night Peter. Good night Olivia," he said before turning around and scuttling to the elevator with a swirling motion.

"Walter!"

Dr Bishop stopped and looked back.

"You know what it is all about, don't you?"

Walter nodded.

"Good. Don't wait up then. See you tomorrow."

Walter nodded again, his face graced briefly with a large smile. He regained a more serious composure and scurried back to the lifts. Before pressing the button to his floor, he popped his head through the doorway and glanced back to the cuddling couple.

"I shall ask Asterisk to validate the experiment and file the results with the rest of my work; under the right tag, of course. I call it… _Fringe Benefits_," he murmured. "Oh! I think that I am talking to myself again," he laughed quietly.

-o-

_That was the last part. I hope you enjoyed it!_


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